Headlights On Dark Roads
by GOODMORNINGHEARTACHE
Summary: Naomi and Freddie are best friends. Freddie lives with the Fitches. Naomi has been in love with Emily since she was 12. Nobody knows. A lot of weed etc. Rest of the gang. Pretty much AU. Own nothing, know nothing. NOTE! Involves parts of violence etc.
1. Puff, Puff, Pass

A/N: Hello! I'm here to try again. This is a story I wrote years ago but never really finished, or well, it never really got started. But I'm going to give it another shot. I'm sure Naomi and Emily can make it work, don't you think? Let me know if I should give it a try!

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Have you ever had these thoughts, impulses you feel that you have to control? But, yet, at the same time cannot control at all. No matter how hard you try.

Have you ever, for example, been in a china shop wanting to sweep your hand through a whole shelf filled with different kinds of breakables just to see it all shatter to the ground? Just to hear the sound of a broken fullness.

Thoughts that confirm the boundaries and restrictions that lives inside ourselves. The thin line between what's natural and what's sick if you eventually go through with these sudden urges.

I have plenty of those.

That's why I usually sit on my hands when I'm in a car, afraid that I just might grab the wheels and steer it off the road.

Just because it feels so right. Because it's so tempting.

That's why I never bring a lighter to my smokes when I know I'm going to be close to a petrol station. Or go out on a balcony. That's why I rarely hold a knife in the kitchen when other people are around me.

Not that I would deliberately ever hurt someone that badly. Not because I've ever done it either. It's just these thoughts that keep screaming inside my head. And I have hardly ever answered them in the way they want me to.

I could ramble for ages about different these thoughts and actions that threatens to overtake me one day. It's been there ever since I was a child. I think it started sometime around the age of eleven. A Wednesday night with me lying against the cold white tile on the bathroom floor with a bleeding lip split in two after being beaten by Tom. Tom was an asshole, who I supposedly was to call my step dad. He married my mother when I was seven, much to my dismay. A few years after, it all started. It wasn't all that regularly. Every now and then. I was used to it.

I started to count the red drops that trickled down my chin.

1,

2,

3,

4,

5,

6,

7,

8,

9,

10..

It usually stopped at 54. I decided it would stop at 54. And when it didn't, I made sure it happened by myself.

It was all downhill from there. With the thoughts, I mean. It's just the red droplets that I actually still do something about, but right now I'm talking about everything. Every single one of them. I'm talking about wanting to throw a hairdryer in a water filled bathtub. About wanting to plunge a wet finger inside an electric socket.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not suicidal. I don't want to die. I just want to try out everything that our social standards say is wrong. I want to know why it's wrong.

But it doesn't just have to be these drives and urges that can be harmful. That you know are dangerous and unsafe. That you know can kill you.

It can be wanting to touch someone's hair just because it seems to be so unbelievably soft. Or wanting to put your hand over someone's pounding heart just to know that the person is actually alive. That it throbs just like your own does against your panting chest. It could be anything, really, and it could be just as lethal in the end.

"Naomi"

"Naoms!"

Oh, that would be me.

"Hmmm..?" A lazy smile covers my lips before I, yet again, take a deep drag of the flickering joint that's in my hand.

"Naoms, I don't know what they taught you at school today but in this house the rule is puff, puff, *pass*, sweetie. The good things in life never come for free, so don't waste it!"

The familiar and teasing voice outlines a just as well-known face when the thick smoke that passes through my lips slowly dissolves. And I give him the smile he deserves for always trying to keep me away from the dark places inside this weary head of mine.

"Oh, you mean like the way you're wasting it? I'm not the one in here with the lungs of a cow. You don't even make it 'til the second puff before it's out, F."

F as in Freddie.

Freddie, Freddie, Freddie.

The boy next door with the sparkling smile, the glowing chocolate eyes and the dark hair. The boy who thought that tugging at my ponytail in the playground would be proof enough for me to know that he liked me. The first boy to hold my hand.

Freddie, the boy who never managed to become more than my friend.

My best friend.

"Whatever, honey."

He teases back, just like he always does. Just like we've always done. Pushing the buttons because we know nothing will come of it. Pushing because we can. Because it's a harmless game. Our harmless game.

And it's in his basement we're sitting right now, the usual gang, smoking away his hidden stash.

It has become more like a ritual through the years. I don't really know when it began but we gather the group every Sunday after dinner, and smoke.

We get together, everyone with various raison d'êtres, to puff out everything that is weighing down on our shoulders. Leaving our old baggage and wounds at the doorstep for a few hours before returning to a reality we never really want to revisit.

"I mean like… I could be an artist. I should be an artist."

A female voice comes to life, letting me know that Freddie has brought some good shit home this weekend. Letting me know it's already having its tremendous effects. That the wounds we left by the doorway are way forgotten by now.

"Hey! I'm serious. Like, who knows? I could even be the next Pinocchio, or whatever his name was."

Katie. Katie mostly smokes just for the sake of it. For the feeling of it. I think she smokes more than anyone of us. I think she smokes every time an opportunity arrives.

And in a little town like this, in the land of Suburbia right outside one of the largest cities in the world, I'm guessing that Mr. Opportunity comes knocking on her doorstep everyday. It has become more than just a quick escape for her. It has become her daily routine. A weightless cross for her to carry.

"It's Picasso, Katie. Jenna would be dissapointed if she heard you!" Freddie tosses her a smug grin before passing the joint around the table.

They teased like siblings, and they kind of were. Freddie lost his family in a car accident when he was five. The Fitch family took him in. He's been with them ever since. So this was as much Katies basement, as it was his.

"That's what I said, stupid." She laughs.

She laughs with such a high pitched voice that it makes me laugh.

That makes everyone eventually laugh.

That only makes me laugh even harder.

Hard enough for my breath to get caught so deep within my lungs that I fear I'll never get it out again. And something inside that thought relieves me in a way I can never explain.

Something inside that thought makes me wonder that if I keep it inside long enough, will the laughter that I'm currently smothering within me last forever? Will that hysterical bit of fun provide me the joy I'm constantly in need of?

Can I keep it inside long enough to then exhale whenever I want to reveal this mind-blowing laughter just to remember that these ecstatic times actually have existed?

Just to know that these oh so happy moments are within me forever. Living inside me. Chuckling with the beat of my thumping heart at night.

These happy moments in our own little cushioned hideout with a heavy clouded and marijuana scented sky above us. Surrounding us. Keeping us safe from harm.

The safe haven where we keep shredding the weight of the world off our shoulders. Just to be able to experience the feeling of lightness, even if it's only for a split second. An instant. Letting us feel the heaviness that's ticking away. Breath after breath. Laughter after laughter.

"Who was that guy by the way? Uh.. the guy who cut off his own ear?" A shaky tone separates the solid air with its announcement.

And while I'm sitting on my red Persian cushion, picking at the seams and making exactly ten straight braids between my fingers with the threads, I remember the recent question Effy just asked.

Effy used to be the happiest kid on the block. That was until her father passed away three years ago. She's been on four pills a day for depression and anxiety problems ever since.

Four pills that are supposed to keep her mind off of thinking about the thoughts she actually wants to explore. To finally deal with. The thoughts that meets up with her every night inside her nightmares.

She says that she smokes because it's soothing. That it helps her cope with her panic attacks better than what hundreds of milligram happy pills each day does. But personally, I think it's mostly because she finally can get the release she's constantly on the lookout for. I think she comes here to get in touch with a lost father on a level we cannot reach in our everyday life.

"Um, I think it was Van Gogh. Austrian or something. Can't remember why he did it though. Seems pretty pointless." I answer.

"Maybe he did it for fame. Or recognition." Effy breathes out in her weary state.

"Man, the things you do for art and fame. Maybe you should reconsider your future profession, Katie."

That oh so familiar voice speaks again with its teasing manners. Shredding the heavy smoke into bits and pieces of amusement, coating us all with its joyful shade.

"Who said I would mind loosing a finger or two? I could become my thing, you know? Katie the fingerless graffiti artist or something." She bursts with such a renewed passion for this newly discovered career.

"Then what would you paint with? Your tits?" A light chuckle comes with the one-track answer from a one-track mind. Cook.

Cook has always been our little pretty boy. Our player. Known for his many tales about his constant trouble with the ladies.

He mostly uses this time of distraction to gather his thoughts, I think. He's always been a lover. A dreamer. Always been our Cook and to hear him share the same old anecdotes like how he had to hide underneath Emma Dillon's bed in middle school when her father walked in the room makes me laugh just as much today as it did the day it happened.

"Who knows? I might." Katie smirks back, making him choke on the smoke that's currently occupying his mouth.

"That I would like to see." A wink crosses the table from a pair of blue eyes, fixed on the very much amused Katie sitting next to me.

Freddie, Freddie, Freddie.

Freddie, on the other hand, is an entirely different question compared to the rest of these guys. Sometimes I wonder if he's here just to be close to me. Sometimes I almost believe that it's true. But I never ask anything and he never says anything.

That's the way it's always been. And that's probably why we call each other best friends. Because we don't talk about the things we don't want to mention. We know what we know, and that's enough.

Even through all these years that we've known one another there are always some things we never speak loud about.

Like the cuts and bruises. Like why he always turned away in bed when I put on my pyjamas during our famous sleepovers. The things we know but never talk about. Things concerning me. Things concerning him. Things concerning us.

I have never been able to give him what he wanted. And I know that he always wanted more from me. I know it because Effy told me in forth grade right before she passed a note from Freddie onto me. A note with the cutest marriage proposal I've ever seen. A note that I eventually turned him down with.

After that he never asked me again. And I never mentioned it again. And that's the way it's always been. That's the way it has continued.

And as he sits in his left corner with his slender legs sprawled out on broken concrete floor, leaning against the wall with smoke filling his lungs, he keeps swallowing those words. Those thoughts.

I can tell by the way he watches me with hazy eyes before completely shutting them and drowning his inner demons inside a tranquillizing sea. And I think he knows why I keep coming over every Sunday. Every week. Every day. I think he knows it all too well and that's why he keeps swallowing it.

And I have my reasons. My raison d'êtres. I could give you hundreds of different ones just as believable as the next one without ever telling you the truth.

I could say that it's because I refuse to witness how my mother refuses to see what's going on right in front of her, or because my grandmother who passed away a year ago is up until this day still the only one who really knew the real me.

I could say that it's because this house feels more like a home to me than what my own four walls inside my broken room ever have. I could say that it's because I have the thoughts. The thoughts that I always feel like I have to be in charge of, which depending on how you want to look at it, can be true in a way.

"Hey, Ems, could you bring back a couple of beers when you go up next time?" Freddie shouts through our sugar-coated reality wrapping.

But the truth is. The truth is that I come here every Sunday just to see her. The girl who just walked down the stairs to the basement and plopped herself down along the sofa in front of the tiny television that's placed in here. I come here every Sunday just to hear her heavenly laughter penetrate these thin and sensitive eardrums that I hold inside me with her joy.

I come here every Sunday just to look at her the way she's looking at me. I come here every Sunday to forget about everything I always have to control, and instead I focus on the things I actually want to keep in check. Like the urge to touch her silky skin in the nape of her neck or touch her wavy red hair that is now resting on her bare shoulders.

The girl who knows more about the bruises on my arms and the cuts on my lips than I want her to know. The girl who looks at me with such compassion in her eyes because she's seen it all.

The girl who thinks that she can save me from this place with the most intense stares I've ever experienced. Who thinks that a heart strong enough can save a way too weak body.

The girl I love for believing it.

And who doesn't have a single clue about it.

And we both pretend that nothing of this exists. We act like the wounds underneath my long sleeved shirt never happened in the first place and that her chocolate glowing eyes never noticed them.

We keep pretending that she's just the younger twin in the Fitch family and I'm just the girl next door who's always been the one coming over for dinner every Friday night after being out in the park with Freddie.

I'm the girl next door who, after 19 years, still wonder why we never share anything else then a simple "Hey" when she occasionally gets the door before anyone else makes it while I'm waiting for Freds. Still wonder why we keep pretending that we've never said so much more than that when we have so many times before. I'm the girl next door who has showed her more without a sound than what anyone who's ever spoken to me has managed to see.

And with a final glance she turns her head and starts to walk away when a distant voice next to me makes way through our talking silence.

"This time it's just puff pass for you, Naomikins. Now hurry, would ya? We're waiting over here." Cook says as he pulls me back into the feathery waters.

Into this cloudy world of mine that keeps pulling me in, pulling me down. Down, down, down and across a threshold between what's real and what's not. Between beatings and embraces. Between her disappointed eyes and loving eyes.

I come here every Sunday for her.

Emily Fitch.


	2. Mr Mourning Man

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews and for reading! This is just pretty much a filler. Sorry for that. But more will come. A bit more Freddie and Naomi, though. I think they're gonna be important for the fic. Let me know what you think! R&R. Enjoy!**

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I have no idea how much time has passed. I don't know how many pebbles that has probably fallen off and gotten stuck underneath our shoes among these footsteps of ours but what I do know is that the road we've been pacing during these millions of minutes that has gone by have led us to the place it always does.

The gravel road that has taken our sorrows to a location where it needs to be before entirely submerging into the deepest holes. The stony path that has been walked upon so many nights before. The road that has carried both heavy hearts and trouble-free minds. That has guided rootless souls to the resting place they're constantly in search of.

And as we sit on the pier that has carried our troubles oh so many times before, I get the feeling that this could have been any one of those nights when miserable state of minds comes here to discharge. Just like any other night that we've come here.

"Sometimes it feels like I'm never gonna get out of here." he absentmindedly breathes out while the smoke from his skilfully rolled cigarette slowly comes flowing out of his mouth.

I let my gaze follow the thin steam that followed his previous action, around in circles and away with a breeze that seems to grasp everything in its way except for our deeply bothered bodies.

I avert my stare and find myself focused on the widespread horizon. The streak where water runs dry and where I always thought, in my early years, that the world ceased to exist. Maybe it was because I never managed to get passed it. Maybe it was because no matter how far I kept swimming a new streak seemed to take place. A line that I never could cross.

And with Freddie sitting right next to me with this slim legs dangling between water and sky, fumbling with a cigarette and his beer bottle between masculine fingers I notice how the sun is starting to rise and I'm wondering how it feels to constantly have such a life altering mission.

How it can never just take a day off because the office party up in the big universe got slightly out of hand with Pluto throwing up all over the place and Jupiter screwing Saturn among the stars.

How it always has to wake up to keep us alive.

I wonder how it feels to keep someone alive. I wonder if it's a heavy burden. If it's a hurting cross to carry. If it feels more like a responsibility than a pleasure. And I wonder if I'll ever know what it would feel like.

"And sometimes I think I never really want to leave." comes from his hoarse voice and pulls me back to the reality _I_ can't take a day off of.

I know what he's talking about. In so many levels I understand exactly what he means but yet at the same time the words that gracefully flows out from his mouth have never sounded more foreign to my ears than what they do in this moment.

And as we sit on this pier that leads to an ocean I've always wanted to cross every time we've plunged our feet into the damp wetness, I feel this longing. This yearning for everything I haven't discovered yet.

Everything that looks exactly like the troubled boy sitting next to me. Everything that doesn't exist in this moment. But the everything that's here. That's close enough for me to never wanna leave.

"You know what I mean?" he continues with his motionless and averted stare.

A stare that seems to be thinking exactly what I'm thinking. A stare that's mirroring a soul that longs to cross that water just as much as my legs are screaming for it. That sends a plea to my wrecked and childish heart to feel the same way for once.

"Yeah.. yeah I think I do, F." I softly say with my beer bottle leaning on the lips, hearing my voice echoing inside the curved green walls of glass.

A sighing "good" finishes a conversation that could've been about all the dreams we never followed.

All those shooting stars we left behind that could've taken us away from here. All those thoughts, hopes and rainbows on the other side of the ocean that we constantly hope can give us the release we've looked for so long.

All those places we never talk about but always think of.

With a heavy "good" that only unloads yet another weight onto this worn-out but far too familiar pier, I feel how it takes another diving step into the water below us. A step closer to a bottomless hole we try to stay away from every passing day. How it has descended throughout the years we've spent sitting here and unburdened sigh after sigh and how it still repeatedly tries to suck us dry from troubles.

How it has taken all the things we've suffered from and merely rebuilt the bridges we frequently managed to burn.

But with eyes that holds nothing but emptiness I fear that if I don't throw him a rope to pull him in with he might never come back. If I don't haul him onto land at once he might get stuck somewhere between all that he dreams of and all that he needs. The puzzle pieces that always refuses to compromise.

So I'm tossing him a rope with fingers crossed so hard I fear that I might be loosing him within this force of mine. I'm giving it a poor shot, trying to pull him closer with the weakest words I've ever come up with but that will hopefully bring him back from those darkened worlds. Bring him back and share places beyond obligations and impossibilities. Places where he can create the surroundings himself. Places where he can live for the sake of living instead of barely surviving.

And when I spin my head around, trying to grasp anything that could wake him up from his painful weariness, it's his jet-black hair that's the first thing that meets the eye.

His jet-black hair that will be the only rescue this pathetic and feeble brain of mine could muster up with today. His hair that holds a color that reflects all the gloominess lying underneath it. That could as well be carrying my sorrow. And in many ways actually does.

It's so dark that I sometimes wonder if the color itself actually wears off on his thoughts. That I sometimes wonder if he wouldn't feel better with a brighter shade. If his dreams would paint a greater picture for him to see.

"So Lennon, when do you have an appointment at the hairdresser, huh?

There I go trying to pull him. And I'm trying so hard that the rope almost slides out of my oh so slippery hands. That's how bad it was. So terrible but yet with so much heart behind those few words that I hoped could weave in a way too weighty soul. That I childishly enough wished could throw some light into those drained eyes.

He probably heard the despair in my voice. He probably heard how miserable that attempt of mine was but how very lovingly it blew against his left ear. And he saves me from digging a deeper hole inside the one I'm already standing in by letting out his well-known snort that tells me he have accepted the thin line that was far too short to actually reach. Telling me that he swam his way forth and pulled himself in from the slippery water with the help of such a brave but still poor act from me. A snort that at the same time tells me that he appreciated the effort.

"Promise me never to do stand-up comedy, Naoms."

And as I open my mouth with mock offence written all over my face I'm silently thanking him for letting me believe that I'm good for something.

As I teasingly hit him on his shoulder to demonstrate my obvious fake surprise from his mediocre insult I'm silently praising him for, in fact, pulling us both up from a far too big and scary ocean with the simplest snort of them all.

"I promise."

"And about my haircut.. I'm actually thinking about letting it grow a bit longer." he says while running a hand through that mass of hair that resides on his head.

Even though he's talking about his hair I can't think about anything else but his well-being. I can't help but think that the last thing I want is for him to let it grow longer, that the faster he gets rid of it the better he will feel. The faster he cuts of the miserable parts the lighter he will feel. But how am I supposed to say that without sounding insane?

"Why?"

"Because I like it. It's comfortable."

"Okay.. but I think you should cut it. You could even dye it too, you know."

He looks at me with such an astounding glare like I just took the wind out of his sails and I get it. I get it because I would have probably looked at me in the same way if I were him.

"What are you talking about, Campbell?"

So I try to take the easy way out. I try to get away with my lame request that I still believe will make him smile again. That I childishly enough think will take away his grief from his weak shoulders that look like they could fold any day now.

"Hey, don't give me that look. I've seen the way you watch extreme makeover. Who knows? There might even be a new bloke inside that skin of yours that's just waiting to come out." I try.

"Yeah.." A snort. "Not really."

"So you're not denying your obvious obsession with the show?"

"There was nothing to deny!" He says while chuckling in his own special way. "You didn't mention anything about obsessing it. You just said that I'm into it. I'm just as into the 90210 re-runs, ya know."

He's right. He is.

But what I'm looking for is something that can take me off the hook from my prior statement. Anything that wouldn't force me to actually explain why I so eagerly believe that all his troubles will suddenly disappear if he changes the color of them. That something so difficult lies inside something so simple. The years of disappointment and regret that lives inside those strands of hair upon his head.

"Whatever. You love it."

"Whatever makes you happy." he says with all the strength he can muster up at this moment.

"Oh, it does. I'm almost thrilled." I tease.

A murmured "good" hurries out from his chest and I'm almost positive that I felt the vibrations from his dark voice. I'm almost sure that the juddering in those words was the only thing that made me hear how he ended yet another conversation, really. A conversation that too could lead us to a place where we never put our feet down upon.

A place where I would be obliged to clarify what I meant just for the sake of it. A written sheet in the history books that could be retold to whom ever wished to hear about it. About how I openly speak about the way I think that his dim and dark hair dyes a way too beautiful heart with a blackness it doesn't deserve.

A place I really don't want to visit this time of day or in this moment and inside those fatigued eyes I see how he lets me off the hook. In those briefly dejected eyes I see how he knows exactly what I've been talking about. And how he won't open those doors I don't know how to close.

So we just keep sitting in our own silence, with beer bottles and cigarette-butts all over the pier, watching the world coming to life. Watching the world meet and greet a day we will soon hide from. A day we will soon slumber away with.

And as I tilt my head against his thin shoulder I feel him lean into the contact instead of flinching away like he normally does.

"Hey, Nai.." His rough and throaty voice that makes my head bounce up slightly when he says my name interrupts our recent stillness.

"Yeah?" I whisper back from my temporary resting spot. Breathing out a weak yes when all I want to do is say no. When all I want to do is to stop this dropping ball of promises that's heading for me. Promises I don't know if I can keep.

"Don't ever go away."

And I can't stop it. I just can't.

'Cause as I glance up towards the outlines of his strong cheekbones and see the person who tries with all his might to carry the weight that this pier we're occupying can't finish off for me, I can't help by try to give him a answer I really don't know if I'll be able to hold on to in the end.

The answer that was whispered in his ear long before I've even said it. A response that he accepts with everything that is him, because he knows that I'll do anything to keep that promise alive even if I might not succeed.

"I won't, F." A shaky breath circulates between two longing souls. "I won't."

"Good."


	3. Making Memories Memorable

**A/N: How about a little Naomily? Yes? Ok, then. R&R, lovelies. You know you rock. ENJOY!**

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Here I am, lying in this freezing bed surrounded by four hollow walls that has never felt more foreign to me than what they do right now. Walls that have closed in and allowed me to be the center of attention oh so many times before. The center of attention inside a world I never really wanted to reside in, in the first place.

Freddie and I paced the same gravel road back to the reality we constantly keep running away from and parted at our red mailboxes, him turning left and me turning right but both heading for identical doors that hides so incredibly different lives and stories inside.

And here I am, lying amongst all these hidden secrets of mine, but only manage to think about the biggest one I've been carrying around for years and still do to this day.

_It's a Thursday evening in the middle of December and I'm getting closer and closer to my front door with every heavy step I'm taking. With heavy ankles that probably looks like their dragging the chains from an entire state prison from a distance, just because I know what to expect when I get to that house. Just because I know what's hiding behind that white picket fence dream at the end of this road._

_Just because I already know what's going to happen and that's why I've never walked slower than what I'm doing in this very moment. _

_The Fitches has a couple of lights on that leaves a faint glimmer upon this snow covered road that would be endless if I got to choose. Warm, indicating lights that are telling me that my final destination is just a few steps away now. Away from a door I'd rather pass than through my own._

_And as I leave my footprints with lingering steps on this freshly fallen snow that'll soon be covered yet again as if I never paced this ground in the first place, I see the lights inside that house of mine as well, glowing with far from the same warmth as the house beside it. _

_I don't have time to take my shoes off before it begins._

_I don't even make it to the carpet before I feel the first blow against my frosty cheek. _

"_Where the hell have you been?"_

_His fuming voice indicates a boiling blood inside his veins, a blood that never existed inside mine and I always wonder where he gets it from. I always wonder who it is that have created this raging beast within him._

_When this happens, it's always when mom is out of town. That, and he being drunk. That's the only time he actually hits me. Something about healing and marks being gone when she returns. _

_I don't even have to lift my gaze to know how dark his eyes are in this very moment. I don't even have to look at him to know how his jaw is set and how he probably reflects the same color as the sky above us outside. How he mirrors the exact same darkness._

"_Answer me!" he yells and I can smell the alcohol from miles away. It doesn't really matter what I say. There's not a single answer in this world that could save me from this. That could prevent this from actually happening._

"_I was at work." I silently whisper as I cautiously try to soothe my now burning cheek with my hand. _

"_You were supposed to end your shift two hours ago. Don't bullshit me! Why haven't you done the dishes?" He growls, growing more furious by the second._

"_I had to work an extra shift. Nina called in sick today, so I had to take her place. I didn't have time.." I try vainly. It was the best excuse that came to my mind. It was the closest non-existing truth I actually could muster up with. _

"_Bullshit!"_

_Another strike to my face. This time hitting my lower lip and re-opening a wound that never really healed in the first place. A wound I never think will heal anyway. _

_But I'm not giving in. I'm not showing any sign of pain and I'm not giving up. I'll never expose my vulnerability for someone like Tom._

_And this is where it all begins. The round started mere moments ago and what's ahead of me is what I've been dreading all the way from the bus stop where I started taking those torturing steps. We don't need words and there are no excuses that could save me now. _

_He forces my frightened stare to meet his with a stranglehold around my neck that only spurs him on even more. That only makes him tighten his grip with those strong fingers that makes me gasp for air that doesn't live inside this room nor in this house or in this moment. That I never really think ever have existed._

_And I know how he loves seeing me this way. How he loves seeing me bleed down his solid hands._

"_You fucking bitch! Look at you! Your filthy blood all over my shirt." He says with a mocking sneer upon his lips while he grips even harder. While he's draining me on everything that is me. "Guess you have some laundry to do now, cunt."_

_I can feel how my back collides with the front door with a slam and how the door handle pushes into the small of my back as he releases my throat and shoves me backwards. _

_Forcefully I try to gasp for air which I hate doing in front of him. _

_A knee takes off and comes crashing into my stomach as a fist flies to my nose and if I didn't know better I'd think it just broke. If I didn't know better I'd think I'd die right here and now while standing on my thin and wobbly legs, feeling the blood stream down my face. _

"_You disgust me." He spitefully says before finishing this one way struggle off with a rough kick to my back that throws me off my legs and makes me fall to the dirty floor, bloodier and emptier than ever before. _

_With only one eye open I can see how his footsteps quickly disappear from my peripheral vision as I start to count. _

_1,_

_2,_

_3,_

_4,_

_5,_

_6.. _

_I don't know what time it is. I don't know how long I've been lying here. I don't know when I stopped counting. I don't know anything._

_The only thing I feel is the dried blood on my face that constricts the skin when slowly trying to pry my eyes open and a searing ache that only grows by the second. By every waken breath that I take. _

_A rush of panic spreads through my body. _

_Darkness surrounding me. Tom must've gone to bed and here I lie like a corpse that's been swept under the carpet with probably some broken bones and a way too bloody face. _

_If I stay here he'll just beat me again. If I get up and walk up those stairs he'll wake up by the creaking sound from the sixth step that always echoes throughout this empty house. I have to get out of here._

_My eyes have begun to adjust to the dimness and I can distinguish the outlines of the living room right ahead of me. I can feel the dust from the cold floor that's seeping through my nose and starts to itch inside my throat. I'm carefully stirring my fingers awake, trying to see if every one is still intact. _

_Step by step. _

_Then the arms. A blazing pain from my left side stretches throughout my whole body that clearly indicates an injured shoulder. The right arm seems to be relatively unharmed though. _

_I use the strength that I have to shuffle over the floor and up against the door with it and manage to put myself in a sitting position. A forceful headache with the strength from a thousand hurricanes circulates behind my eyelids and I can't really see straight. _

_I have to get out of here. I have to get away from here, now. _

_I don't know I got up or how long it took me but what I do know is that I'm standing on the porch outside, looking at an illuminated residential area without the slightest clue of where to go. _

_The cold December air soothes my wounds and I would stay out here all night if it weren't for the fact that I'd eventually freeze to death. As I slowly turn my head to the left to allow the frosty breeze to ease the remaining damages that hasn't been getting enough attention from the icy snow flakes, it hits me. _

_As I see a faint light burn in the middle of this freezing night through the window in the otherwise dark house next to me, I know exactly where to go. The only place that my body allows me to go. _

_I don't really know her and I guess she knows just as little about me but she lives inside the only house that could ever give me the safety that I'm in need of right now. And inside this moment, with a growing ache inside this fragile body of mine, I couldn't care less about our clumsy, awkward and meaningless exchange of words throughout the years._

_Knock._

_Knock._

_I let the only intact part of me loosely drop to my side as I await an answer. A single sign that tells me someone heard me. That someone's there. _

_But nothing. Nothing at all. Not even the slightest of movement. _

_So I try again. _

_Knock._

_Knock._

_Knock._

_A little harder this time. But delicately enough to let the sleeping forms continue their deep rest. Hard enough to stir the awaken person but faintly enough to not alert those sleeping souls._

_As I notice how the cold wind is starting to take a different direction and instead of relieving me from pain but letting me shiver from the cold, I'm hoping that she heard me this time. That someone heard me. Anyone. _

_So I wait._

_I wait a little bit longer. _

_But still. No answer._

_It's just when I'm about to turn and walk away after giving up all hopes of waking up from this awful nightmare that I hear footsteps shuffle down the stairs on the other side. Delicate footsteps that are closing in and approaching the front door that I'm currently occupying with my mere presence. _

_I didn't even have time to register her staring me down through the eye-hole before the door suddenly opens in a swift movement. _

_And there she is, standing in front of me, wearing way too little clothing and a devastated look on her face. A shattered look that seems to be more surprised to see me on these steps than by this scarred face of mine. _

"_Naomi.." she heavily breathes out. _

_And I can't do anything else but foolishly enough try to give her the smallest of waves with my functioning right hand and smile way too awkwardly for my own good. A smile being narrowed down by the dried blood that has placed itself like glue on my unmoving face. _

"_Can you move? Or, I mean.." She sighs to herself and quickly shakes her head like she's trying to shake off a weariness that was coming and maybe, just maybe, to wake herself from this unreal situation. _

"_Of course you can move, you came here, but, I mean, does it hurt? Well, of course it hurts, I mean, just.. come in. Can you come in?"_

_I think that's what she said. I hope that's what she said. _

_Sluggishly I nod, mainly to give her some kind of response to her question but also to avoid aggravating the whirlwind inside my head. _

_She opens the door a little bit more and steps back to give my ravaged body a bit more room to work with and with slow steps I pull myself into the warmth that I missed every second of while standing outside it. _

_I didn't even register her closing the door or how she managed to get my coat and my shoes off but I'm sitting on the end of her bed while she's going through drawer by drawer, trying to find a first aid kit that she said she had lying around here somewhere. _

_And while I wait, I try with the few senses that are still functioning in this state that I'm in, to take in as much as I can from this room. A room that's so unbelievably foreign to me. A room I've never actually been in before. That I've only catched a glimpse of when passing her slightly open door on my way to Freddie's. A room that's been hiding more than I ever could imagine. _

_And for some reason I always believed that there would be some kind of mess and disorder among her things. For some silly reason I've always been sure that her music and her clothes would create the chaos that is otherwise missing inside that personality of hers, well, from what I've seen, that is._

_Oh, how wrong I was. _

_Spotless surfaces from left to right with thousands if not millions records and vinyl's in alphabetical order, filling shelves from wall to wall. Clean and folded clothes in a just as spotless wardrobe and a perfectly made bed with newly washed sheets that goes with every little detail and color inside this space._

_You know, they say that your room often mirrors your personality. And it might be true. There might be some accuracy inside that statement. Because when I think about my cold and hollow room with hardly any furniture at all, I get this feeling that it actually says everything about my own emptiness. And if I would paint the walls in brighter colors and fill the empty spaces that I've got left with more gear then I too might even consist of more than what I do today._

_I don't get to continue to contemplate that statement inside my fatigued head as she interrupts my thoughts with a gentle "hey" that immediately sends me off to a world so far away from this one._

"_I found it.." she says with the slightest smirk upon her lips. "I told you I had it somewhere around here."_

"_I guess you were right." I say weakly. Mostly because I felt that I had to say something. To show her that I'm still alive and that I'm still here._

"_Are you okay?" she suddenly changes direction and steers this conversation onto an entirely different path. Her facial expression changed astonishingly lot and her otherwise calm brown eyes are filled with worry. _

_I don't know if I'm supposed to be honest of if I should continue to tell her that everything's okay just because it's what you usually say. Because it's just something you do. _

_But as I avert my gaze and take a look around in this way too unfamiliar room I suddenly remember that nothing about this situation is normal. Nothing about this is what you usually do or go through. With crushed bones and bleeding wounds I realize that everything inside this moment is anything else but ordinary. _

_So I tell her the truth. _

"_I actually don't know."_

_And that also seemed to be the answer she was looking for. That appeared to be the small response she needed to hear from me. The only truth that needed to be said inside these walls. Because she's not asking for anything else._

"_I don't mean to sound like a perv or something but I have to ask you to take your shirt off." she softly says with a flushed face as she looks down to the floor while kneeling in front of me. _

"_Not that I'm a doctor or anything, but I mean, if you've been h-" she cut herself in mid-sentence as her voice searches for the right word. The easy way out. And even though she might know the truth, she'll still do her best not to walk on that road tonight. "..hurt anywhere else than your face you might need to clean it and stuff."_

_I warily look down to my blood-spattered shirt that has colored the white that once occupied the fabric with a shade of the same dried blood that's now glued to my jeans and face. And since I live with the knowledge that my upper body have been taking a lot of beating and needs to be cleaned I also know that I have to do what she says. _

_So I do the only thing I can do under these circumstances._

"_Okay.. but I can't really move my left shoulder." I say and she opens her mouth to say something but closes it again. Then she tries again._

"_We can cut it up if you want. You can borrow one from me later, if it's okay with you?"_

"_Yeah, sure.." I shakily breathe out. Shakily because I know what's hiding underneath this shirt. Shakily because I know exactly what's she going to witness. What's she's going to think and what's she's going to know afterwards. Shaky because __**she**__ will understand._

_And she seems to be trembling just as much as me when she lets the thin fabric slide in between the sharp pair of scissors she's holding. She seems to quiver just as much as me because maybe, just maybe, she has a clue about what she's going to see. That she might be afraid to have confirmed._

_As she sits between my spreaded legs on the floor right before me, slicing up my shirt, I can't do anything else but to breathe. _

_Breathe in the scent that is her. A scent of raspberry tea on a cold winter night, just like this one. A scent that takes me so far away from the wounds she's about to behold within a few seconds now. _

_A scent that tells me all about those snowy days when Jenna and Rob used to take us all skating on the ice along the pier. A scent that makes me remember my mom as the mother she was before Tom. A scent that makes me recall every single crush that I've ever had. A scent that makes me remember things I've never done, felt or experienced. _

_A scent I need to keep in mind as I hear how her lips draws a gasp she couldn't manage to hold in. _

_So I close my eyes. _

_I close my eyes and take the deepest of breaths to keep that scent as far inside me as I can. I close my eyes and evoke a life I've never lived just to keep myself from witnessing the one I'm currently residing in. Visioning a life where I don't have to be as ashamed as I am right now, in front of her beautiful eyes and my distorted body. _

"_I'm sorry." She whispers against my rising chest as she lets her warm breath invisibly stain my oh so damaged skin. I'm guessing she's sorry for flinching. For reacting although she already knew what was coming._

"_It's okay." I say with a strangled voice that's threatening to break at any second now. As if this was nothing out of the ordinary. As if this was what I was supposed to say. As if I couldn't tell her the truth. _

_Which I no longer can. _

_Not when the truth is right in front of her, staring her straight in the eyes._

"_This will probably hurt." She accidentally whispers a little too close to my ear as she re-positioned herself._

_And I don't know what hurt the most. To have her this close to me in a much compromised position or her cold hands touching my bruises._

_Cold hands, warm heart, isn't that what they say?_

_Cold hands that's everywhere right now. Despite the pain I'm feeling inside this vandalized and hurting body of mine, her touch actually hurts more than every single scratch on this living corpse. _

_Regardless of every blow I took, her warm and concentrated breathing against my neck is more excruciating than every beating I've ever taken. Because this pain is constricting somewhere else within me. A place I didn't even know could ache. _

_I feel a warm and moisture towel that's oh so carefully washing away every trace of blood and dirt from the bleeding gashes on my body. _

_Cold._

_Warm._

_Cold._

_Warm._

_Cold._

_Warm._

_Cold._

_Warm._

_Her hands are everywhere and my thoughts are nowhere. I've lost all track of time. Whatsoever. I don't know if she's been touching me for an hour or a minute. But the insufferable feeling stays the same. _

_The fact that I don't ever want her to stop. The fact that I didn't even want to start to begin with. The fact that I never want to leave this room. The fact that I never should've have come here in the first place._

_She clears her throat gently to wake me up from this weariness that covers my face and I raise my gaze to meet hers that are saying things I don't want to hear right now. So I hide again. Averting my eyes. _

"_Um.. I left you a shirt and a pair of shorts for you to sleep in on the nightstand." she timidly says because she knows she's taken something for granted. _

_Because she already prepared for me to stay the night without even knowing where I might have taken off to with my wrecked body. Just because she's taken something for granted without knowing how grateful I am because of it._

"_Just tell me if you need any help, alright?" she says as she slowly rises to give me the privacy I assume that I need even if she just saw my whole upper body only clothed in a bra._

"_Okay." I hesitantly say and wait for her to leave before I try to put on these clothes that she left me. _

_It took a little while but I managed nevertheless. And here I am on the end of the bed again, in the exact same position as before, waiting for her return. A low and muffled sound comes from her speakers which I assume is some kind of music. _

"_Is it safe for me to come in?" A hushed voice on the other side of the door silences the almost muted melody I heard before._

"_Yeah, the coast is clear." I say to somehow vainly try to cut through the tension that resides inside this room._

_She reappears with a warm cup of tea that has the exact same raspberry scent that was streaming through my whole body earlier and I couldn't be more thankful in this very moment. _

"_Thank you." I whisper when she hands me the cup._

"_It's okay." she responds with a small yet beautiful smile. _

"_No.." A deep breath. "Really. I mean it, Emily. Thank you."_

_And she looks at me with the most intense stare of them all, kneels to the same position she once occupied between my wobbly legs, with her hands on both sides of my body, locking me in, and looking at me straight in the eyes. _

"_It's okay, Naomi."_

_And when she says that, with a hoarse mixed with the scent of all those memories I've never owned in the first place, I believe her. _

I can hear how the world outside of this room is coming to life and the streets are being packed with children hurrying off to school and parents being late for work. I can hear the juice glasses being taken out from the cabinet at The Fitches and how a cat have started a fist fight with the trashcan right outside my window.

I can _hear_ everything but the only thing I can taste and feel inside this empty bed is the scent of raspberry and the memories that from that day on became real. That became mine.


	4. Barely Barely Breathing

**A/N: You guys rock. I love your reviews and I'm really glad that you like this so far. I'm gonna try to respond to you guys too. Keep going, PLZ. It really is what I feed of nowaways. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Now, less talking, more reading. R&R! Enjoy.**

* * *

"It'll be fun!" Means it might be really shitty, but rather we all be miserable together, than alone. It was Freddie, trying to convince me with a lying high pitched voice, to go to this lame ass party at some girl's house.

Well, it wasn't just a random girl. No, scratch that. It was. Her name was Gerry, but

everyone called her G. She was as random as a person could be. Most of the time she would just do what everyone else was doing. Never heard of a free will or personality for that matter.

She, being a friend of Emilys, was, as randomly as her personality, seen at the Fitches from time to time. They were a small group of friends, just like we were.

Emily and Katie was born six whole minutes apart. That doesn't sound so special, but it also meant a year apart. See, Katie was born three minutes to twelve on new years eve, something she loved reminding us about when the day grew closer during Christmas. Emily, on the other hand, was born three minutes past twelve, the next year.

Six minutes turned to a years gap and Emily's been a "year younger" ever since. Which meant that she was in a grade under us too. Hence, other friends than us. Not that she wasn't welcomed, she was. But the whole year thing was pretty good for both of them. They never became those irritating twins that was exactly the same. Emily and Katie had different interests, different clothes, different hairstyles, well. Different everything. Especially different friends. Gerry being one of them.

"Do you honestly think you sound convincing right now, F?" I ask, giving him an eye roll with my words.

"Probably not, but fuck it. You're coming. I've got pills!" He squealed again.

This lightened my mood in an instant. I loved pills. I loved drugs. I loved anything that took me away from this cold heart-wrenching reality. This empty and haunted room that I didn't even understand why I was arguing for. Why would I even want to spend a second more than necessary in here? I wasn't going to anymore. And by the sound of Freddies pleased humming over the line, he knew he just convinced me of going.

"You're in luck today, little boy. I'll be over soon." I said with a hint of a smile in my voice before hanging up.

* * *

After a shower, some make-up and ten outfit try-outs, I found myself in the house of Fitches for probably the thousand time.

"They're on the nightstand, hun." Freddie's voice was muffled by the thick closet doors in his room that was swallowing him whole while searching for a shirt of some sort. A second later he came back out, struggling to get his head through the collar of a skinny worn-out t-shirt. It was his favourite. A greyish dusty old t-shirt with the print almost gone. I don't even know what it was in the first place. I just know that he loved it. Even more so these last couple of months. I had a feeling I knew why.

"Effys favourite, huh?" A smirk.

"Or my favourite, perhaps?" A glare.

"You know, there's nothing wrong with liking her, Freds." I said with a bit more seriousness lacing my words.

We've talked about Effy before. Many times before. But never really touching the subject that eventually was going to be brought up some day. Like today.

"Oh, stop it, N. It doesn't matter. She's with a new guy every other month. It was just a compliment. Just leave it?" He was silently begging. His eyes searching mine. Searching for some sort of understanding, and normally I would just back off and give him what he needed but not today. Not this time. Not anymore.

"No, I fuckin' won't this time, Freds." I wasn't harsh. I wasn't mad. I was smiling when I said it. It was a light statement. I just wasn't going to leave it.

The thing was, Freddie had been drooling over Effy since he first laid eyes on her. He was six years old and the Stonem family had just moved to the neighbourhood. Tony, her older brother, was helping her father empty the car, while Effy was sitting by the door just observing it all. Freddie had recently moved in with the Fitches, the Stonems next door neighbours, and was too, observing. But not the moving in process. Not Tony, not her father, not the car nor her slightly irritated mother yelling at her father to be careful with the vases. No, just her. Just observing observe her family. And when she felt that familiar feeling of being watched, she just turned to Freddie, and observed him too. This, in contrast to Effys reaction, made him feel uneasy and at the same time exhilarated. The same feelings he's had towards Effy ever since. A combination of unease and exhilaration.

"She's not that little girl sitting in a dotted dress anymore, you know?" I almost whispered with a voice so fragile. I didn't want to hurt him, or make him feel as if I was mocking a precious memory of his that he's confided in me.

"There's only so much observing one can handle." I said. Speaking for myself in too many

ways than one.

And suddenly this wasn't the time nor place to be having this conversation. It was a stupid decision of me, wanting to talk about something like this right now. For many reasons. A few of them being the deep red water that will swallow me whole if I start dipping my feet, like I just did with that sentence.

I knew he wasn't up for it either. Thankfully, he turned the subject around before I had the chance to backtrack all the words. It was way too late for that anyway.

"I know, okay? I know. But you know what?" He said, eyebrows raised. "There's too much talking and too little pill-taking in here. I'm disappointed, Naomi." Mock frown.

Thankful as I was, I just accepted his refusal to talk about Effy with a understanding smile and leaned myself over the bed to reach the pills on the table. I didn't notice that my top rose a bit with the movement, but someone else did.

"What's that?" I instinctively froze. I knew exactly what he was referring to. The bluish bruises on my lower back. The bruises he knew nothing about, and it was killing me not telling him about it. But telling him about it could mean the end of me. He would probably hurt Tom. Very bad. Which in a way isn't a bad thing at all, but if he'd survive, Tom on the other hand would hurt me. Very bad.

"What?" I pretended, and kept my eyes focused on the pills now in my hand. I quickly popped two in my mouth and swallowed hard. An act that seemed normal to Freddie, but was for an entirely different reason than the pills to me.

"That mark on your back. What happened?" It wasn't like he was on to something. It could have been anything. I could've just fallen from the stairs. And for the second time in a minute or so I was thankful again. Thankful that he didn't look more into it. That he didn't try to search my eyes for an answer. Thankful that he left it at that. That his eyes was observing the pills I was currently occupying in my hand rather than the small of my back.

"Oh, that. Hah. I don't know. Might have gotten it from work. Nina accidently hit me with door on her way in the other day. Doesn't hurt, I'll be fine." I gave him a finishing wink. He left it at that and downed two pills.

A interrupting cough from the door startled both of us.

"Anything left for me?" Katie said with a smile while waltzing into the room, sitting down beside me on the bed.

"Um. If you go back out, try that thing called knocking and wait for an answer, it just might be your lucky day." Ah. A man with strong principles. If there was someone respecting the privacy of others, it was Freddie. Barging in always annoyed him.

Katie, being the girl that she is, shot him a death glare but did as she was told. She was used to it by now and never really got offended. I don't really think she could care less.

When the knock came, I couldn't help but giggle a bit. The pills were starting to have its infamous effects. I could feel a faint flutter inside my ribcage rising, my heart beating with ease instead of struggling with every breath.

"Well, come on in then." Freddie called out.

But the beating of my heart suddenly stopped being light and feathery like it was mere moments ago. It was now rapidly increasing speed, thumping harder and harder for every breath, making it harder for me to focus on anything, really.

"I just came to say that Katie went to get the water gun. She's loading it now in the bathroom. You know what happens when you tell her what to do, Freds." A familiar raspy voice said from the doorway.

And with Emily now standing here, with newly showered hair and nothing but a pair of knickers and a thin white tank top on, being the reason for my now even heavier breathing, I can do nothing but avert my gaze from her slim form.

I have been in love with Emily Fitch since I was twelve. I didn't even realize it at first. You'd think that the shaky hands, the increasing heartbeats, the shortness of breath when I see her and those a little too friendly dreams at night would give it away. But it wasn't until that December night it really hit me. When her touch was scorching me and her scent was soothing me. I was sixteen then. I'm nineteen now. Seven years of loving. Three years of actually knowing it.

"You alright, Naomi?" Emily asks. Her voice filled with nothing but concern. And as her eyes reaches mine again, I can feel myself becoming more and more lightheaded by the second. I know it's mostly the drugs. Her and the drugs. With every feeling intensifying when popping pills, my shaky hands and shortness of breath is something I no longer can keep to myself.

"Yeah, you alright, hun? You're shaking." Freddie joins in.

"It's, it's just the pill." I choke out with a weak smile, convincing neither of them, and slowly lean back against the bed, trying to regain a somewhat normal heartbeat.

"You sure?" Freddie again. He's moved over from the floor to the bed and is now gently brushing away a few strands of hair from my face. Emily has closed the door and locked it so Katie wouldn't come in and drench this whole room and everyone in it.

"Here, drink some water." I don't know when it happened but Emily is suddenly way too close to me with way too little clothing holding out a glass of water for me to take. She's kneeling in front of me again, just like that time, and it takes everything in me to keep me from asking her to leave. Because she's the reason for this. Why I can't fucking breathe.

I shakily take the water from her hands, careful not to accidently touch her fingers during our short exchange and really really really try to calm down with every sip of the liquid.

Freddie places a hand on my stomach just to show that he's there and that I shouldn't worry or panic. His way of saying that everything is okay, that nothing bad is going to happen, that I won't die just because I'm having some sort of a panic attack. And it might just be the lack of air inside me that makes me imagine seeing a look of what I wish would be jealousy but might just be concern when Freddies hand is trying to soothe me.

After a few minutes or so, my erratic breathing returns to a somewhat normal state, well, as normal as it can be with Emily Fitch so close to me. And when I open my eyes I'm met by the smallest of smiles from her.

A loud banging startles everyone of us.

"There's your knock! Satisfied? Now let me in!" Katie yells from the other side of the door.

"Drop the water gun first." Freddie says.

"What? How did yo-.. Emily! You bastard!" Katie huffs and bangs at the door even harder. "You guys suck!"

"Whatever, then! Naomi, Tom is downstairs, says he wants to have a word with you. Hurry up now, would ya? I'm leaving in fifteen! Effy and Cook are already on their way." She mutters while shuffling down the corridor, back to her room.

Those worrying brown eyes is back on me in a split second. And it's not Freddies. The panic attack that had just calmed down was starting to return, the drugs intensifying everything again. This time though, just pure fear. And with Emily knowing exactly what it is because of this time, and Freddie not having a single clue, she puts me out of my misery without even asking.

"I'll tell him you guys already left." She says and with an emotionless voice and hastily exit the room without even waiting for an approval from me. Not that she needs to.

I couldn't be more thankful, because something inside me tells me that meeting Tom right now could have ended me in a second. Freddie doesn't seem to question Emilys action. He knows that me and Tom rarely get along, and assumes that the last thing I want to do is talk to him after having a panic attack.

"Fuckin' hell, N. You scared me!" He says, somewhat relieved, somewhat nervous still.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. I promise." A shaky breath. "Sorry for that." I smile weakly.

"I'm holding you to your promise, blondie. You ain't leaving me."

* * *

I seldomly think of someone as beautiful. People tend to either be particularly pretty, sexy, hot, mint, nice, cute. Anything but beautiful, really. That is, of course, until I witnessed

Emily Fitch sitting on the floor with a beer in her hand, giggling at some lame joke G just pulled.

Like all those times I've spent secretly watching her, this is not an exception. With her wavy hair carefully caressing her bare shoulders, her nose wrinkling when giggling even harder now, and her perfectly shaped lips leaning against the bottle, all I can think of is the definition of beauty.

The explicit definition of beauty is a quality that gives pleasure to the mind or senses. And when she accidently catches my stare, I can't help the pleasure overtaking me. The warmth, starting in the pit of my stomach, spreading throughout my body like a volcano eruption. Through my arms, leaving the sweetest of tingles inside my fingertips. Over and over and over again.

We're all sitting in a smaller open room, just next to the living room, which by now is probably a raging dance floor. With not that much of a crowd around us, an idea obviously came to Gerrys mind.

"Lets play I've never! Come on!"

Effy throws me a somewhat bored look, I give her the infamous eye-roll. We're not doing much else anyway. Cook on the other hand loves to let people know what he's up for in bed. 'Cause everyone knows it's always about sex in the end. It begins with a few innocent ones, just to end up in plain porn.

"I'll go first! Now drink if you have, ok? Hmm.." She scans the room with her eyes thoughtfully. "I've never had a crush on a teacher." And then she takes a sip. Emily starts laughing at this, much to Gerry dismay. "Mr. Howell in political science was fuckin' mint, Ems, and you know it!" She retorts. Emily just shakes her head while still giggling.

So beautiful.

"Mr. Howell is nothing compared to that fit guy that was some kind of nurse assistant like for six months or something, before we graduated, remember?" Katie says.

"Oh yes. We all remember." I pitch in. "Katie was suddenly feeling nauseous every day those six months. That fit guy eventually thought she was pregnant." I disclose to the rest of the group. They all start laughing and I eventually join. Katie does too.

It goes on like that for a couple of rounds. Suddenly I've emptied three more beers and popped another pill that I had left in my jeans pocket. Confessions, confessions, confessions. Every round making us more drunk. More honest. More careless.

"Okay, okay. My turn. I've never had a crush on a friends brother or sister." Katie says and smirks at Effy while taking a gulp from her beer. Effy just rolls her eyes (we all do, in this group). Almost every girl Effy met developed a crush on her older brother Tony. Except for me. But I wasn't innocent right now. Far from it.

Emily suddenly takes a small sip from her bottle, surprising me but also disturbing me more than what it should. She trows a glance at her friend Luke who seems to join in on this little innocent secret, responding with a sly smile.

And while being more drunk, more honest and definitely more careless, I casually take a sip, not even noticing it myself at first. Until I realize what I'm unveiling for everyone when the liquid runs a trail of regret down my throat.

Everyone is looking at me.

Options, exits, quick escapes screams inside my head.

Would they fall for it if I said I was just thirsty? No, no. That's stupid. I could never pull that off. I'll just say that it was Tony when I was thirteen or something. Yeah. That's good. But no, Effy knows I never liked Tony. One of the reasons why we're pretty good friends. She knew straight away when we met that I wasn't after her brother. All the other girls were. Like Katie. Fuck. FUCK. Can't I just say it was someone they don't know? But none of us really has other friends. I'm fucked.

Suddenly it feels like the whole room when quiet. Everybody's waiting. For me to do something. Say something. But someone reaches me to it.

"Fucking lezza! You don't think I've noticed how you've been looking at me?" A voice comes to life. They aren't siblings by blood, but they are by heart. I instantly freeze, and unnoticeably flinch at the lezza part of it all.

You could've heard a fucking pin drop.

It takes a while for me to register which twin that actually was talking to me and the hugest wave of relief washes over me as I see Katie smirking against me.

Thank. God.

They all start laughing and while mockingly giving her the finger, I give a smile of true gratefulness for getting me out of that train wreck of a mess that was growing closer and closer by the second. Not that she had any idea of what she was doing. She was just teasing and being her narcissistic self. Not even thinking for a second that it just might be her six minutes younger sister my heart is all about.

A heart that is racing so fast it makes swallowing almost impossible as I look at her and see that she's the only one not laughing. She's just looking at me with eyes that are impossible for me to read. I'm doing everything in my power not to spill it all with my revealing blues and speeding heartbeats. Trying to control the urge that is Emily Fitch.

And I'm finally about to let out the breath that I feel like I've been holding in forever when she looks away, lifting her bottle to her mouth. Only to feel that pleasure explode in the pit of my stomach when she glances back again, mixed with the fear of her knowing all my secrets and the relief that I'm still alive. Feeling.

Oh, Emily Fitch. The things you do to me.


	5. Relishing Ruby Red

**A/N: Houston, we've got an update. First of all I just wanted to show my appreciation to you guys, so a HUGE thank you to Tartiflette, hereforcoinlaundry, my-other-ride-is-your-mum, IAmAwesomeBecauseMyNameIsSam, ithinktherefore, Brucas2006, Laura121, lumagoo1015, justallan, Whoa, lobstercheese, OnTheSly for your reviews. Don't stop. I love them. And thank you to everyone else reading this. Means the world. Secondly, I just really wanted to say that to hear you guys praise my writing means a lot. English isn't my first language, so you can imagine the feeling. Also I apologize for every grammar error that may occur. Now, let's get reading, shall we? Let me know what you think! R&R! ENJOY.**

* * *

Dreams about red, more vivid than ever before, engulfs me every night. They usually occurred after seeing her, maybe an exception every now and then, but now. Now all I see is red.

It feels like it came from nowhere. The intensified longing for Emily. I'm not surprised, really. These last couple of years I've been chasing any kind of intoxication, something that would remind me of the fact that I am more than a walking dead. Something to remind me of what makes us human other than the blood running through our veins. And that's probably why I always felt drawn to her. Every time she was around it stirred something in me. Human reactions I'd never experienced before came to life near her. I came to life.

And just like any other addiction, you eventually crave more. And more. What does surprise me though, is that I managed to keep it on a regular basis for years. Settling with the few glances and sporadic interactions we shared. Settling with mostly watching her from afar.

But it's just growing and growing for every day. Every night. Becoming too much for me to handle sometimes. Dreaming about Emily always feels so real, that when waking up only to realize none of it really did happen, I physically feel my heart hurting. Breaking.

Sometimes, like now for instant, I wake up in the middle of the night. Cheeks flushed, hands shaking and a heart that's breaking.

I let out a sigh, run a hand through my hair and pick up my cigarettes from my desk and head towards my window.

While inhaling a much needed drag, my thoughts return to red. When I dream about kissing her it always tastes the same. A hint of raspberry spreads from the tip of her tongue, overcoming me. Her lips are always so soft. So soft. She tries to stifle a quiet moan, but I always feel it vibrating on my own lips. When my hand reaches underneath her shirt, carefully caressing her stomach, inching closer and closer to her breasts, I wake up. Just like I woke this night. But this night it didn't end there. This night her shirt flew off, and mine too. This night she caressed me too and if I think back on it hard enough, I can still feel the ghost of her illusionary touch. This night I felt more in a dream of red than ever before.

Another drag to calm me.

The sound of a window being pushed open disturbs me from my thoughts. As I glance to the house from where the noise was coming from, I see a dark figure climbing out of what has to be Emily's bedroom. I instantly freeze and feel how this heart of mine breaks even more. I crouch down a little, not wanting whoever it is to see me, suddenly feeling like an intruder.

I try to get a glance at who it is. First trying to tell myself that it could be anyone of her friends, only to realize that friends doesn't need to sneak out of other friends bedrooms. Friends are allowed to stay. This is someone who obviously isn't a friend.

Is it a boyfriend? You'd think Katie or Freddie would've mentioned Emily seeing someone. Even if we're not really in the same crowd, juicy news like that could never be kept by a gossip lover like Katie. Are they keeping it a secret? Should I ask Freds about this? Who is this person? Why are they leaving now at three in the morning? Images of Emily and this anonymous being having had sex all night runs through my head, like thousands of knives stabbing me over and over again. The thought of someone touching her, and her wanting to touch someone disturbs me even though I know it shouldn't. I just, can't help it.

"We'll talk tomorrow?" the dark figure whispers up towards the window, and I'm assuming Emily gave a nod back since I never heard a reply from her, but that doesn't bother me. No, but what does bother me and at the same time relieves me is that the whispered voice was everything but a dark, manly voice. It was a female voice. Leaving me utterly confused, not noticing how the cigarette have burned almost all the way down to my fingers.

After closing the window and returning to my bed, the thoughts of Emily being with another girl consumed me. Is she gay? Or was it just a friend? Maybe there's a really good reason for this. Maybe there's none at all. And then, the question that hurt the most stung behind my eyelids, even though I tried my very best to suppress it.

Does Emily have a girlfriend?

And this time I swear that I could hear my heart break.

* * *

I eventually fell asleep, again consumed by dreams of red. Only this time they weren't as pleasant as the one before. This time all I could dream about was Emily with this stranger. This unknown person that obviously has access to her bedroom. Something I could only wish for myself.

I woke up to a rainy Sunday, feeling more nervous than ever before about going over to Freds today.

The morning passed in a blur and hours later I found myself on the doorstep I've stood by so many times before, anxious to get rid of this nauseating feeling inside my stomach. Thankfully I was greeted by Katie and we headed down to the basement almost immediately.

Effy, Cook and Freddie were already there, sitting in a half circle waiting for us to join them. We all greeted each other with a welcoming nod.

"Naomikins, ye! We're waiting here. Come on, then." Cook said, throwing me a wink and a pleased smile with the joint leaning on his lips, waiting to be lit.

"Party's here now. Go on, then!" I said, occupying my usual seat on my persian cushion.

The tension inside me slowly subsided as I felt the familiar soothing feeling flooding my senses. I passed it on to Freddie, leaning back as I exhaled the smoke. Letting the drug overtake me.

"One fit bird ye, that Gerry girl." Cook said, thinking back on the party the other week.

"You slept with her? Uew! Gross!" Katie said, making an disgusted face for emphasis.

"Nothing gross at all about that girl, I say. For being a year younger, she was well experienced, if you know what I mean." He said with a satisfied smirk. "One of the best I've had actually." He finished. Katie just kept her repulsed face, making gag noises every now and then.

When the spliff eventually was back in my hand I heard the creaking sound of the stairs coming to life. Even before she was visible before our eyes, I knew it was her. But the footsteps belonged to more than one person and I instantly started to panic, thinking back on the dark figure from last night.

The only thing I knew was that I could not stand seeing Emily with whoever that was right now.

But speaking of the devil. It was only Gerry.

"It must be my lucky day, today." Cook grinned and started patting the small empty space beside him. "Come join us, ladies, why won't you?"

I glanced around our circle, not seeing anyone who seemed to mind Cook's invitation. Everyone was well out of it by now anyway. Except for me who was more than aware of what was going on.

Gerry didn't seem to mind and gladly accepted the invite. She seated herself next to Cook, with Emily slowly walking behind. I suddenly realized that the only place left to sit was next to me, and I immediately felt a heat radiating through my body, my already wobbly legs growing even more unsteady the closer she got.

"Got any room left there?" Her hoarse voice asked, brown eyes glancing down between the red cushion and me, leaving me speechless. I simply nodded as casually as possible in this moment and made as much room as I could for her to sit on.

"Thanks" she said quietly after making herself comfortable mere centimetres from me. I passed her the spliff, not really knowing what else to do or say. I'm so unaccustomed to being this close to her, heart and brain fighting for dominance, chaos and order in a fist fight inside.

And the sweet smell of her raspberry shampoo reaches my nostrils as she passes the spliff across the ring to Gerry, having to lean over me, draping me in red, in the process. Killing me slowly.

I start picking at the seams of the cushion as I always do, distracting me from the red that will swallow me whole if I can't suppress these impulses, and lately these impulses has become harder and harder to keep in check.

"Nai, what ever happened to Dylan? Fit bloke, yeah." Katie murmurs from the floor.

Dylan was a guy I met during a graphic design course at uni last semester. I was never really interested, mostly because everything I've ever been about is red, but a girl has her needs and he was.. well, he was comfortable. He was there when the thoughts about Emily became to much to bear, letting me just, breathe. I broke it off after two or three months, and he didn't hold any grudge. I think he knew what we were, and what I needed him for. Thinking back on it, I think he did the same with me. Just needing someone to offer this safe haven where the air is a little lighter than everywhere else.

"Nothing really." I didn't really have anything else to say. There wasn't anything else to say.

"I thought you fancied him?" Probing.

"I wouldn't have ended it if I did, would I?" It was a useless conversation. I felt myself becoming more and more agitated by this. Especially in front of Emily. Picking harder at the seams. When glancing around I'm met by Effys indigo eyes staring right at me. They're not accusing, they're not harsh, they're not saying anything. They actually remind me of Emily's eyes at the party, when everyone else was laughing but her. Like she was on to something.

"Right, right.." Katie nods. "Still fit, though." She finishes. Finally.

"So?" Emily interrupts. I thought we were done with this conversation?

"So.. what?" Katie glares back, frowning, not really understanding what she's trying to get at.

"Why does it matter? That he's fit, I mean." Questioning her sister. The only person, well except for Cook that is, who's never valued intelligence, interests, skills and other personality traits in a boyfriend.

This obviously bothers Katie. She might be used to us all telling each other off, but not her younger sister doing the same in front of us. Her friends. She squints her eyes, looking straight at Emily.

"You wouldn't know, would you?"

I have no idea what's going on between them, and I know it's not my place to intervene, but when I hear Emily's faltering comeback decay inside her, I can't help myself.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I frown.

A sneer grows on her lips, directed towards Emily. Everyone who knows Katie also knows what that facial expression means. She's about to insult Emily. Or say something Emily probably won't appreciate her disclosing.

But I reach her to it. Backing Emily up.

"You'd rather live the rest of your life with a fucking vegetable for a brain but has the looks of a Hollywood dream rather than someone you actually can have a decent conversation with?"

Katie rolls her eyes and I hear Emily letting out a relieved sigh.

"No, that's not what I'm saying. Never mind. We're not getting anywhere with this." She leaves it, but I know it's only because she didn't really have anything to counter with. Knowing we were right.

* * *

An hour or so has passed and I really need a cigarette. Katie has dozed off on the floor, Gerry is making out with Cook on the sofa, Freddie's playing a game of cards with Effy and Emily's sitting with a crossword looking utterly concentrated. Eyebrows frowning, deep in thought, not noticing me appreciating her beautiful features.

I look down at the puzzle, seeing where she's stuck.

I don't know what it is me, but the urge is uncontrollable now.

"Dingbat."

She looks at me as if I just insulted her, which, depending on how you interpret it, I kind of did. But that wasn't what I was getting at.

"No, no, not you. The word that's missing. It's dingbat. A font with pictures instead of letters."

Her offended expression eases in seconds, and she smiles that oh so beautiful smile making me think that my heart might explode right in this moment.

"Thanks. You like crosswords?" She looks at me, surprised.

"Yes? You seem surprised?"

"No, I just.. I just didn't think of you as the crossword type." The mere thought of Emily just thinking of me makes my stomach flutter.

"Fuckin' love'em."

A pause.

"I'm going out for a smoke, care to join?" I ask. I couldn't help it. I can't anymore. I can't stop this. I even think I'm using a flirty voice. Oh god. Thankfully Freddie and Effy are sitting by the table a few feet away from us, not hearing our exchange of words.

She still looks surprised. Like she never expected me to actually talk to her.

"Sure." She nods and stands up.

Shit. What am I going to say? What are we going to talk about? My wobbly legs makes themselves noticeable as I almost fall over when getting up. Emily steadies me by grabbing my arm, making me stumble even more than before. This results in my cardigan sliding down a bit, revealing a bruise that doesn't go unnoticed by brown eyes.

"Shit." I curse, but not because of my lack of balance, but the burning of her touch on my skin.

She has this look in her eyes now. It resembles a look of pity and I almost want to scowl at her, because the last person I want pitying me is her. Even that night, when she saw everything, that kind of pity never entered her orbs like now. She looks at me like I'm fragile. Confusing my tentativeness with hurt when the truth is it's only love. For her. I pull the fabric back up, not meeting her eyes. Ignoring this pity fest that's taking place in here.

"You coming?" I mumble, finally glancing back up at her. Grateful that the pity is now gone. Like it was never there in the first place.

And when she answers me, it all comes back. The red, the nervous hands. Flashes of previous dreams. Soft lips, warm skin. I'm forgetting every boundary I've ever made when it comes to Emily. I can't restrain it anymore. The craving. Needing her to follow me. To talk to me. To just be close.

"Lead the way."


	6. Somewhat Somewhere Somehow

**A/N: Again, everyone, THANK YOU. You're the best. Every time I see that there's a new review my heart does the flips. Fuckin' love it. Haha. I'm really sorry for being slower than a frickin' turtle when it comes to updating, I just have tons of work to do right now. This is a tiny bit shorter than the other chapters, I'm sorry about that too. Btw, I was wondering, do you guys prefer long chapters or short chapters? I know everybody has their own taste preference when it comes to this, but I was just thinking about it. I, for one, love the long chapters. Especially when you never want the story to ever end. Ah. It's great. Well, anyway, let me know! If you want the chapters shorter, I'll sort it out from now on. Right now I'm starving though. Mmmmm. Food. And mmmmm. Update. You know what to do! Read n' review! Let the game begin.**

* * *

We're sitting outside in their backyard, sharing a bench. The sun is setting behind their birch trees, a cool wind breezes gently between us, making Emily tighten her grip on her jacket. I'd give her mine if I weren't too much of a chicken heart.

"You want one?" I ask, holding out the cigarette package for her.

"No, I'm fine. You go ahead." She wanted to come here too. To talk to me too. Her answer stirring every emotion I should be used to by now, but it still comes as a surprise every time. The fluttering, tingling feeling.

I place a cigarette between my lips and light it. Inhaling a long drag. Trying to calm myself for whatever this is. I want to ask her about everything. I want to know who that person was last night, I want to know about the look she gave Luke at the party and if he has a little brother that she'd crushed on before. I want to know what she likes to do in her spare time, what makes her happy, what makes her sad. I want to know everything I haven't been able to figure out by myself in all these years.

Some of the things I do know about Emily though, is that she likes to dress in blue. She hates peas. Just pokes at them on her plate every time it's been served at the dinner table. She loves meat on the other on hand. She likes video games. And when she's tired, she always yawns twice in a row. She prefers to wear her hair down, unlike Katie. And when she paints her toenails in front of the telly, it's usually the colour red.

"Do you write?" I suddenly ask. Needing to stop my head from rambling about Emily, when she's finally sitting here right next to me.

"What?" She's still seems surprised by everything I say.

"Yeah, I mean, like, do you write stuff? Stories, novels, poems, whatever. Just, write." I try to elaborate my question.

"Oh. Uhm. I guess? Sometimes. Or well, yes. I do. How did you know?" She looks at me expectantly.

"I didn't. It's just that many people who likes crosswords, also likes to write. I've heard that it goes hand in hand, you know?"

I can see her nodding in the corner of my eye.

"Do you?" A glance of brown.

"What, write? Nah. It always ends up shit when I try. I was always better at drawing." I shrug, mumbling in the end, not really used to praising myself.

"Really? I'd love to see some." Panic spreading inside. She can't. Almost every painting is of her. Well, not every, but oh so many. She'd report me if she ever saw them. I've been drawing her since I first laid eyes on her. It's all red, red, red. Her flowing her. Her rosy lips.

She notices my hesitance, and instantly backtracks her words.

"But I understand if you don't want to. It's okay. I respect you artistic privacy." She says, teasing me, but also providing me with a free pass out of this situation of having to turn her down. And I never want to turn her down.

"Maybe one day you'll be lucky enough to see some of my work. I'm a natural, you know. You might pass out, it's that good." I'll play along. Not wanting to disclose too much of my drawings of red.

"Yeah, maybe. But it's a risk worth taking." She breathes out. Smiling.

I can hear her trying to collect some kind of courage, or trying to find the right words. The irregular intakes of breaths betraying her and I'm instantly flooded with a bad feeling. She seems to be struggling with this, like when you've had something on your mind for forever, and when you finally get a chance to talk about it, you have no idea what to say. I don't really want to know what she's trying to get at. What if she knows everything?

"Naomi.." she looks distressed. Frowning, still trying to find the right words.

"Does Freddie know?"

I can feel the blood drain from my face. Going pale. Cold. Trying with all of my strength to protect these walls that always comes crashing down whenever she's near. I didn't really know what to expect from this conversation when we got here, but I sure didn't expect that she'd talk about this.

I stay silent for longer than I expected to. Glancing down on my cigarette every other second or so. I take another drag, and carefully shake my head.

"No."

Another drag.

"I can't tell him." It's almost a whisper. I hate myself for feeling this small in front of her. Hating her for having this power over me. This effect. But I can't. I can't tell him.

"Why? He's your best friend, isn't he? You know he'd understand."

And of course I know. He always understands. And I curse myself everyday for not telling him. Seeing him straight in the eyes and lying about it. It fucking hurts, but I'd rather not risk my life. Or somebody elses. Even if they do deserve it.

"It's not about that." I can't bear to look at her right now.

"Then what?" She looks impatient. And questioningly.

"If you know Freds, you know what would happen."

And by the look of how her jaws suddenly clenches, she knows exactly.

"And why would that be so bad? It's not like he wouldn't have it coming to him." She scowls. I hate her for doing this, but I love her for caring so much at the same time.

"You haven't told anyone, right?" I turn to her, fear probably written all over my face.

"No, no.. I would never." Her voice softens immediately when her eyes reaches mine. "But.." Pausing. "I could never live with myself if, well, you know. Something.. worse happened."

She's not averting her gaze this time. She is just staring right into my eyes, mirroring my previous fear with her own. Suddenly I realize the mistake I made when I went to their house that night. That damned December night. I'd never wanted to worry her.

"Don't worry."

"Are you kidding me?" Frowning.

I start to rub at my eyes. This is not how I wanted this to go. This is not what was supposed happen.

"Do we have to talk about this? I just.. I don't know." I sigh. It's not her fault. None of this is her fault.

"You weren't supposed to see that. I wasn't planning on coming over. I just couldn't do anything else. I'm sorry. I really am."

She looks at me with disbelief coating her eyes.

"Again. Are you kidding me?" Shaking her head. "Don't fucking apologize, Naomi. It's not your fucking fault." She raises her voice ever so slightly. Her eyes seemingly mirroring mine. Fear, disbelief, worry and love. For a friend, if nothing else.

I can't say anything. My voice can't muster a single sentence that could help me right now. Because I know she's right and I'm wrong. I know it's not my fault. I know I don't deserve the bruises. I know it. I'm not one of those who blames themselves. Not that it's wrong. It's more than understandable. I'm just not that kind. So that's what I say.

"I know."

And we stay silent. She takes a deep breath.

"Listen, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. It's just that when I saw the bruise on your arm downstairs, I remembered that night."

I was going to interrupt her, pleading her to forget it. I don't want her to worry. I never want her to worry.

"No, listen. I can't even remember for how long you've been a part of this, us. All of us. You've been around forever. I know we haven't spoken much, but I've been through more dinners with you than any of my friends. More movie nights. More campings. Everything. I still know who you are, Naomi."

I don't understand.

"What are you getting at?" I ask, slightly annoyed. I don't understand what she's trying to tell me.

"I'm trying to tell you, that you can't tell me off like I was a stranger. I'm not. You can't expect me to ignore this."

"Are you trying to say that you're going to report him? Please don't. Listen, I'll take ca-" I stutter, fear instantly taking over my actions and words. She was never supposed to get involved.

She interrupts me. "No, no." She shakes her head. "I'm not going to report it, okay? But I know who you are, Naomi. And I know that nobody can tell you what to do." A pause. "But just remember that you're better than this. That there's more to you than, this." She says, and pulls down my cardigan. Surprising me to say the least.

I instantly flinch as I watch her eyes travel down my arm, witnessing new bruises. More than one. More than three.

"This is not all there is. And when you're ready to do something about it" She lets go of my cardigan. "Let me know."

And in that moment I love her even more. Not because of her silent promise to help me get out of this. Not because of her warm and caring eyes or her slender hand that rests between us on this bench. No. But as I realize that this version of Emily, the real human version and not the fictional one that I've created from bits and pieces put together, I see so much more in her. More to love.

All the feelings that I've had towards Emily suddenly transformed into something else this this night. As if everything I've felt before is only fraction of what I'm capable of feeling. When the longing turns into something real, something to grasp, someone with a voice, a personality that I always knew was there but never dared to question.

"So Luke's little brother, huh?" I say, staring into the open air. I'm a bit scared to look at her. Not really having a clue if I'll be able to control myself from conveying everything with my eyes.

She turns her head and I feel her eyes bore into my side.

"No. Not really. He doesn't have a little brother." She says carefully, as she glances back down and suddenly acts somewhat nervous.

"Oh. I.. I just assumed after the game at Gerry's. He did look quite secretive when the question came up" I said, chuckling a bit, only to realize my own answer to the same question that particular night.

"Katie was somewhat right, though. You have." She says.

"I have what?" I look at her curiously.

_"Fucking lezza! You don't think I've noticed how you've been looking at me?" _Echoes in my head.

That's when my heart probably stopped. And I really mean stopped. Just a second before it was pumping furiously against my ribcage, echoing through my body, pumping against this bench we're occupying. But now, now. Nothing. In a second, it stopped. And in a second, it came back. I could feel the rush of blood through my limbs, the speed intensifying with my violently racing heart.

The expression on her face is undescribable. I would call it a smirk if I didn't know Emily, but this, this, hint of a smile on her lips but yet the seriousness in her forgiving brown eyes is impossible to even question. Not knowing what to ask. Not nothing what she's hiding.

She gets up, zips up her jacket and clears her throat with her back turned. The irregular intakes of breath once betraying Emily during our conversation tonight, has now affected me. I try to find any kind of comeback, finally comprehending what she implied with her silence. She must know.

Katie was _somewhat_ right. Somewhat. A somewhat separating two twins.

"He does have a sister, though."

And with that, she walks back inside. Leaving me with a flickering cigarette in an too sweaty hand. The other one leaving a damp mark on the surface as I raise it to my heart, trying to keep this thunder inside from ripping my chest up.

"Shit" I slowly breath out. Covering my face with my hands.

"Shit, shit, shit."


	7. Grey Grand Gestures

**A/N: Lovelies. Thank you. You guys and your reviews makes me happy. That's pretty awesome. It's such a boost. Really pushes one to write. Inspiring, that's what you are. And yeah, this is kind of a looong chapter. It wasn't even meant to be this long, but I didn't like the thought of splitting it up into two chapters, ruining the feeling of it. Well, you can be the judge of that. Let me know what you think. Is the progress of the story realistic? 'Cause that's one thing I really strive for when I write, and I'd really like to know if you think I'm straying way too far out there. Thank you for reading. Reviewing. And hopefully, enjoying. R&R!**

* * *

It's been four days since we shared that bench. I've been trying my best to look at and think of anything else but her. It's been almost impossible. So I tried to stay away from the Fitch's House instead, drinking and reading mostly and spending some time with Effy and Cook. But this day is not just another day. It's a day of sorrow. A day of pain. Of love. And a memory. Because that is all you have left to hold on to in the end. When everything is gone.

The love that I feel for Emily is an undying love. It's pure and unwavering, yet extremely unnerving. And with her now having a slight clue of what's burning within me, my first instinct is to flee. Not from her. But from the heaviness that follows a love like this.

The soothing smell of wet asphalt along this street I'm pacing leads me to two strong dark marble columns, separating the dead from the living. As I enter the cemetery, I instantly turn left. I've been here so many times before. Dragged these feet of mine on the gritty path. When I reach her grave, I kneel down, placing the flowers I brought with me next to the tombstone.

Minutes passes by while I continue to sit there in silence. The pouring rain that first accompanied me when I got here has slowed down into a drizzle, wetting my already drenched coat. I like the feel of rain trickling down my face. Cleaning me. Cleansing me from everything. Taking everything with it to the ground. To the grave. Letting me shed these heavy layers of love and loss.

"I wish you were here." I whisper.

"I know you'd slap me on the head if you'd hear me. I know you wouldn't want me to grieve. But I.."

And it goes silent again.

"I just wish you were here."

"You know, sometimes when she looks at me I get this weird chill down the spine of neck, just like I used to get when you tickled me, do you remember?"

I let out a small chuckle, reminiscing inside this weary head of mine. Rain dribbling down, taking a replica of the memory with it.

"I know you didn't believe in crap like that, but I know it's you letting me know you're still here."

A loud sigh.

"But do you really have to go through _her_? Like she hasn't caused me enough heart attacks already."

I think of Emily and her brown eyes. How easy they are too drown in. The unfamiliar feeling of falling falling falling into the air, never crashing down.

I smile as I read her name on the tombstone in front of me. May Campbell. Sister. Mother. Grandmother.

My Grandmother.

"I know it sounds corny and a tad dramatic, but I'm afraid I might die if I never get to be with her. But at the same time, I'm just as afraid to die by just being.. with her."

I close my eyes. Letting the smell of this green scenery and a hint still left of the asphalt that followed me here be sucked in as I inhale a much needed breath.

"If you were here, you'd tell me what to do. Just tell me what to do. I can't stand it anymore."

I stand up, stretching my legs out and raise the hood of my sweater to my head.

"Mum would've probably said hi if she knew I was here. So, hi."

I look up at the foggy and grey sky, closing my eyes, relishing in the feeling of the cold rain against my already running tears. Taking them with it too. As I let out the hardest of breaths, I look back down on the grass that now covers this resting place of hers.

"I'll see you soon. You behave until then, all right?" No one else is here today. It's just me, the rain and the sound of my shoes scratching against the pebbles underneath as I turn to leave.

"I love you. Happy birthday."

* * *

I head over straight to the Fitch family, not even bothering going home first to change my clothes. I don't care that I'm drenched from head to toe. I don't care. Days like this, nothing matters. All I want is some peace. And the one thing I can think of that could ease this burdening feeling inside is the peace that resides in the Fitch's house.

Just one knock. Nothing more. It's Jenna that answers the door.

"Naomi! Hi, dear." Her tone is soft and warm, like a mother should sound. But her eyes frown as she takes in the state of me, sadness covering her mature features, like a mother would look.

"Come in, love. I'll put the kettle on."

* * *

"Here, put them on. You know where to leave the wet ones. I'll wash it later."

She hands me a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt that probably belongs to Katie. I go to the bathroom and peel of the damp textiles that's covering me, placing them next to the laundry basket. When I return, Jenna is sitting on the couch with two cups of tea in front of her, waiting for me to join.

This isn't the first time Jenna's seen me like this. Every year it's the same. When my Grandmothers birthday comes around, I always feel so lost. So alone. So scared. I miss her everyday. But too much on her birthdays. I become somewhat of a ghost. I feel nothing. Just this overcoming sadness, tugging at the heart strings. A dull ache.

She waits for me to speak. Whenever I'm ready. Never pushing it. But I don't want to talk today. I don't want to say anything. I just want to sit here. Just to sit.

She puts her hand over mine, giving it an squeeze before reaching for her cup. She smiles, and I can see that she's thinking about something.

"Whenever you were too much of a hassle, she'd spice her tea up with some whiskey." She laughs into the open air that surrounds us in their living room.

My grandmother used to live around here before she passed away. They were pretty close, her and Jenna.

"I can imagine." I croak out. Smiling back at her. "I was a pain in the arse sometimes." I state matter-of-factly.

"I'm going there later today. Going to pick some flowers from the garden. Fresh, just like she liked them."

I'm not saying anything. Jenna's not waiting for an answer either.

"You're staying for dinner. And the night. I'll prepare the food when I get back. Now get some rest, dear."

She kisses me on the forehead, and takes her cup as she stands up, walking out of the room.

I lean back on the couch, settling for a fetal position and fall asleep as soon as I close my eyes.

I wake up by the sound of the front door closing. I haven't got a clue of what time it is or for how long I've slept, still a bit out of it as I squint my eyes open. I'm feeling a bit feverish. Drained from energy. And emotion.

As soon as I hear a voice come to life, I know who it is. I know that voice, and it's husky but hushed at the moment. I'm assuming she's speaking on the phone, not knowing who might be home. I can't help but listen. I'm lying in the living room, after all.

"I don't want it anymore. I haven't for a long time. You just don't get, do you?" She sounds really annoyed.

"What? Lisa, you're talking shit." She sighs.

Never heard of a Lisa before.

"I'm tired and I don't want to be having this conversation. Leave it. It's over and done with. You can't just call me whenever it suits you." She kicks of her shoes, dropping her bag on the floor.

"And tell Luke to answer my fucking texts."

"Fucking hell.." She mutters.

The next thing I hear is, what I assume is the phone, slammed down on a table. It was Luke's sister. It had to be.

What did all that mean? Is she seeing her _now_? Was it her that was climbing out of Emily's bedroom? I hate Luke's sister. Fucking Lisa.

I hear her footsteps getting closer and closer for every step, suddenly coming to an abrupt stop as she probably sees me lying in here. I can't see her with my face on the opposite side of the couch, facing the opposite wall.

"Naomi?" She sounds startled at first, but it quickly turns into a distressed voice, panicking. "Is that you?"

She's walking faster and faster towards me, I can hear it. I don't even get the chance to answer when she continues.

"Are you all right? Did something happen?"

She's now in front of me looking down, worry written all over her face and body language as she kneels down to my level. She takes in the state of my face, my puffy and red stained eyes after both the crying and the rain. Frowning. Jumping to weird conclusions.

"He hasn't... you know, done anything?" She quietly asks, eyes darting over my body. Revealing what she's implying. "To you, has he?"

It took me a while to register at first, it went so fast I didn't have to time to say anything.

But as I realize what she's saying I hurriedly start shaking my head,

"No, no, god no." I say throatily. It's the first thing I've said in hours.

She closes her eyes and lets out a deep breath. Relief taking over.

"Good, good." She whispers.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." I say, looking down. I'm too drained to actually look at her. I'd just want to kiss her. Especially when she's so close. Her face a couple of inches a way, close enough for me to reach it if I tried, far enough for me to not feel her warm breath against mine.

"Don't worry, it's okay." She says, glancing around the room.

"It's my Grandmothers birthday today." I say, closing my eyes for a couple of seconds. The dull ache making it's presence clear once again.

"Oh.." She says with such a small voice. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not."

"You obviously are. But I don't think I need to tell you how okay that is to be."

"I guess."

The door opens once again, startling Emily for the second time this day. She noticeably moves back a bit, creating a distance between us and clears her throat. I instantly miss her warmth.

"Emily, hi, love. Could you help me with dinner? I'm just going to fetch the groceries from the car." Jenna asks, popping in with her head from the doorway.

"Yeah, okay." She says, standing up.

"You feeling better, Naomi?" Jenna again.

"Yeah, I guess. Thanks."

"Dinner in an hour, okay? Go take a bath. You'll feel better." And with that she's gone.

"You staying?" Emily asks, looking at me before heading to the kitchen.

"Yeah, staying." I carefully say. Offering the slightest of smiles.

She says nothing. Just staring me down from above. Nodding slightly, a smile on her lips, before leaving the room.

* * *

I'm in Freddie's room, ready to head downstairs for dinner. I took a long bath and borrowed a t-shirt from Freddie. I found my own jeans lying on the floor, probably just forgotten them after spending the night. It felt a bit better, but not much. Still, the dull ache. Just, aching.

She's poking at the peas. She really doesn't like them. I put my fork down after eating the last pasta from my plate. During the dinner we had talked about my Grandmother. It felt good. Jenna shared some memories, I shared some. It felt better, honouring her rather then grieving. I still miss her, oh so much. But still.

Jenna. She's a lifesaver. And speaking about saved lives.

"Man, that was good." Freddie says, leaning back on his chair, placing his hands on his stomach.

We all thanked for the food and headed down to the basement. Freddie rolled one up. The rain was pouring down now, smattering against the windows. I love that sound.

It was just me, Freddie, Katie and Emily. It wasn't awkward or weird. It felt good. It felt nice and safe.

"This one's for May Campbell." Freddie announced, as he sat down and reached me the spliff. Locking eyes with me, he silently said everything he needed to say; I'm here for you. It's all right. Everything will be okay. You'll always have me.

I just look at him, tears starting to burn behind me eyes, thanking him.

"For May Campbell." We all say in unison as I light it up. I close my eyes as I take a long, deep drag and passing it to Katie. Emily watches the exchange. We passed it around until there was nothing left to do but to put it out and we then we just sat. Together.

"Remember when Dad took us to the lake that time? You dropped your mascot or whatever it was in the freezing water?" She said, directing the last part to Emily. I remember it well. I was about eight.

We all nodded.

"And you! Super hero over there." she pointed to me. "Digging your hand down to pick it up. You couldn't move your hand properly for hours!"

We all chuckled a bit. I couldn't move my fingers for minutes afterwards. It was really freezing. The water, colder than the coldest of ice you can imagine. But I got it. It was worth it. Emily was about to cry when she dropped it. I couldn't stand it. I just wanted her to smile. I remember thinking she was so beautiful when she smiled.

Emily looked at me, smiling that damn smile that was the reason for my temporary disability at the time.

"Snowball could have died!" she squealed, poking Katie in the ribs.

"Ouch, bitch!" she groaned while laughing. Freddie joined in too. We all did.

And that's how it continued for three more hours. Katie eventually went upstairs a bit earlier, saying something about a much needed rest. It was late. Freddie and Emily was playing a video game, and was just finishing up.

"Let me know if you need anything, ok?" Freddie said, turning off the game.

"Yeah, thanks." I was lying on the guest bed, now watching some shit documentary about people eating in their sleep instead of Emily kicking Freddies arse in some violent and rough fighting game.

They both said their good night's and left.

I didn't want to think about this day. I just wanted it to be over. Even though I ended up having a really nice time with them all, the dull feeling was still there, itching inside.

After more than an hour, the documentary was finally coming to an end. I heard the door open, and turned my head up to see who it was. It was pretty dark, the only source of light coming from the television. I wasn't scared, assuming it's probably Freddie not being able to fall asleep.

I turn my head back to the screen as I hear foot steps coming down and from the way that the dreary feeling that was swallowing me whole mere seconds ago just disappeared, like someone flicked a button inside me, I instantly felt nervous. I knew it was Emily as soon as she started walking down the staircase.

Her steps are so light, so feathery light.

"Hey.. you awake?" She asks with a raspy voice.

I move into the bed lifting me up by leaning on my elbow, making room for her to sit on. She plops herself down and looks at the telly.

I just want her to stay there forever. I want to freeze this moment in time, and just admire her, not needing to worry about anyone noticing. Just, watching her. Taking her all in.

"I never thanked you for saving Snowball."

I laugh.

"It's okay. It was nothing." I say. A small wave in the air, saying that it was really nothing.

"It wasn't nothing for me. I went through my old diaries the other day. It was hilarious." She said, chuckling a bit.

"Anyway. I went upstairs and read about that day at the lake. I was so ecstatic that Snowball survived. And then I had written that I really wanted to just hug you for doing what you did. The water _was_ fucking freezing!"

I just smile. She was seven years old. The cutest seven-year-old I'd ever seen.

"And as I said, I never really thanked you properly. So, sit up, slacky. You're getting a hug."

I can't remember ever being hugged by Emily. It wasn't that we couldn't, it wasn't a thing we did. I didn't hug Katie that much either. Freddie and I hugged sometimes, but I wasn't that much of a hugger. I don't know. We just didn't.

Her arms are open, lifted to the side, waiting for me to embrace her. I tentatively reach forward, my heartbeat increasing the closer I get to the raspberry that coats her.

She's softer than I ever imagined. Her oversized tank top hangs loosely from her shoulders, providing me with more skin than I thought it would. Just Emily's skin under my hands. She's warm and she feels like a gentle summer night. Soft and spotless. Heavenly. I instantly change my mind. _This_ is the moment in time that I want to freeze. With Emily in my arms.

When we parted, I wanted nothing more than her to stay. She made everything else go away. The aching, the sorrow, the memories. She put my mind at ease. And everything I needed in this moment was just that. Her calmness.

"Stay. It's boring down here for someone like me." I couldn't control it.

"Since I can't fall asleep." I wanted her to stay, there was no power left in me that could've fought that battle and won. I had no control whatsoever right now. I couldn't resist it any more. I just, needed her.

"There's plenty of room. Here." I lifted the covers up. No idea what had gotten into me. She looks just as surprised as I certainly was, hesitating a bit, asking me,

"Are you sure?"

All that is Naomi Campbell, every fiber of my being is begging her to stay. Begging her to stay because this might be the only chance I'll ever take to actually move forward with this. To try to reach her. Try to let her know that I'd die without her. When all the walls are down, when the what to do's and what not to do's are in the shadows, resting for the night, chances like this arrives. This is it. I'll never dare to do it another time. Another night.

"I'm sure."

She looks down on the empty spot underneath her, and glances back up to me. She slips her legs under the covers and lays her head down on the pillow, her eyes never leaving mine. And she shuffles towards me, just a bit. But it's a bit enough for me to feel her naked legs delicately touch mine. A shiver running through my whole body. Stomach dropping in an instant. Irregular heartbeats and sweaty hands. Just like that. If I would die at this exact moment, I would be happier than some people ever get to be in a whole lifetime. If I would die right now, It would be worth it. I'd never look back.

"Okay, then I'm staying." A whisper.


	8. You Had The Heart

**A/N: Thank you, birdies. I love you. As I've mentioned before, your reviews seriously makes my stomach flutter. Don't ever stop. I feel like Naomi in this story. Lulz. So I'm sorry to disappoint those of you who were looking forward to sexy time, but it just feels really unnatural for them to take a step in that direction at the moment. Oh.. and unfortunately I've got some bad news for you guys. I'm going away on a vacation for almost two weeks without internet, BUT I'm planning on writing the shit out of this fic while I'm there, so you got something to look forward to at least? Just don't be a hater. ;( Anyway, I was really in a hurry getting this one out since I'm leaving in just a couple of hours so sorry for the misspellings and other grammatical errors. But I do hope you still enjoy it. You know what to do, right? Read n' review, lovelies. And if you think that this fic is terrible or the best one you've ever read, please do share that with the rest of us. See you soon!**

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"Tell me about her." She carefully whispers to me, her warm breath brushing against my hand as it lays between us. And I still can't grasp the fact that I'm lying next to Emily in this basement, in this bed, under these covers.

I think about it for a while, sorting through my memories of her, trying to find one I can settle with. To retell. There are so many even though I was fairly young when she passed away. The aching returns, but the strength of it thankfully being overpowered by everything else that is ruby red.

She's watching me so intently, her eyes scanning my face.

"She said you were the nicer twin." I said, smiling at the memory. My eyes glued to my hand between us.

"She did?" She raises her eyebrows.

"Yeah. She used to say that Katie was lacking in heart. You had the heart."

Emily stays silent. Urging me to continue with her eyes. I know that because I eventually looked up from my hand and studied her face instead. Openly. Mindlessly. I couldn't care less about what my otherwise reasonable brain was telling me. I don't know why I chose that memory of all the memories that is May Campbell. But it felt right. A way for me to say everything I feel without really saying anything about me.

"Do you remember that time I turned six? I had that costume party and JJ was dressed up as princess Leia."

Emily starts laughing at this, obviously remembering, as I also expected her to.

"He was adorable! With the buns and everything." She smiles. Her eyes in deep thought.

"He was. But then Katie poured her soda all over him in the bouncy castle, saying that he shouldn't be dressing as a girl when he's a boy. Do you remember?"

"Yeah.. I do." She says, still in deep thought but not smiling any longer.

I'm just laying there in front of her, watching her. What she did that day, I will never forget. I didn't fancy her then, or I don't know, sometimes I think I've loved her all my life. But I didn't acknowledge it at the time. I just thought that she was.. nice. Just. Nice.

"It all went so fast, and then suddenly you were standing in only your underwear offering him your dress."

"I felt so bad for him. Katie was such a twat." Disappointment overtaking her words when mentioning Katie.

"Exactly. When I went to bed that night, my grandmother came and sat next to me. Asked me if I enjoyed the day and all that. I said yes, but that I felt sorry for JJ. He really looked so cute in that costume and probably spent days getting it together."

I pause for a bit, adjusting myself in the bed. Our legs touches once again, sending shivers down my spine, and this all-too-familiar burning sensation from the pit of my stomach is travelling further and further down my body at the speed of light. I take a deep breath, trying to rid myself of this escalating fire burning inside me with Emily so close.

"She passed away a couple of months afterwards, but I remember it so clearly, that night when she sat with me and we went through the day. I told her it was nice of you to offer your dress, not many people would have done such a thing. And then she suddenly put her hand over my chest, right against my heart and said, 'Emily has a lot of that. Sometimes too much. But most of the time it's better to have too much, than too little.' "

She looked at me with such love in her eyes I swore I would have died right in this spot if they were meant for me and not this memory. Not my grandmother. Just, me.

"And it was so weird, everything about that moment was so weird at the time. I had no idea to what she meant. Or I mean, I understood that you were nicer than most people, especially Katie, but not the bigger picture. I probably still don't. But just before she went to turn off the lights and kiss me good night as usual she said, 'just remember that people like Emily tend to ache much more in there than others if being hurt.' "

I don't know how she got me to tell this story, and I don't understand anymore why I chose it. I can't stop it. This, truth-telling when she's near me. And in this state of mind, with my heart screaming out for the only girl I love and the grandmother I've lost, I am helpless.

"And then she just left the room with that. I had no idea to what she was saying. But I remember keeping my hand over my heart as I feel asleep and I dreamt about you."

That last part wasn't meant to come out. Fuck. It was the first time I can remember dreaming about you. About red. But that, I can't say.

She looks surprised.

"You did? What was it about?"

"I was six! I can't remember."

Of course I remember. I always remember.

"Anyway. What she said has always been somewhere in the back of my mind. Like when you dropped Snowball in the water. All I could think about was that your heart would ache so much more than if it was Katie who dropped hers." I admit to her, not meeting her piercing brown eyes.

"Is that why you did it?" She whispers again.

"I didn't want you to be sad." I say with such a small voice I almost thought she didn't hear me.

A lazy smile forms on her lips, her eyes squinting a bit trying to analyse me with her brown orbs. But she keeps whatever she's thinking to herself.

Silence surrounds us, but this didn't feel awkward. This didn't feel wrong. Me and Emily, speaking. Me and Emily, sharing a bed. Me and Emily. Full stop. And I don't understand why it even would. We've been around each other for years. And yet this comfortable feeling, this easy connection, comes as such a surprise.

Emily tries to stifle a yawn, but it's way too obvious for anyone to miss.

"Go to sleep, you're tired." I say, ordering her.

"No, no, I'm not. Not at all." She vainly tries to cover it up by raising her voice so that the hoarse sound of sleep that is threatening to overtake her any minute now is concealed, but no such luck.

I just glare at her. Unconvinced. She's the worst liar.

"It's okay Emily, go to sleep. I'm pretty beat too. It's been a fucking draining day." I say as I also can't stop myself from yawning.

"Okay, but only because you can't keep your eyes straight." She mocks as she turns her back to me.

My heart instantly falls. All I wanted was for her to fall asleep so I could unashamedly study the stunning and breath-taking features of her face. Take in everything that is Emily Fitch. I've never been given a chance to actually see Emily when she's asleep. Calm and serene. Free of worries. Peaceful. At ease.

The creamy white skin of her arm is being illuminated by the weak ray of the morning sun seeping through the curtains. I study her bare shoulders, they're sharp but yet tender at the same time. In the crook of her neck I can spot her pulse point, indicating a evenly beating heart. I think she's falling asleep. I'd rather stay awake. I have a whole life left to sleep.

Suddenly she turns back around. I don't even have time to pretend I was sleeping and not running my hungry eyes over her perfect and slender figure that I've dreamed of oh so many times.

My stomach dropped. My heart dropped. The look in her brown eyes is so powerful I feel my knees weakening by the sight of them. I don't know what it is. What they're telling me, but I'm sure that my eyes are saying everything right now.

I dream of you all the time. You're everything I love. You're everything I hate. I want you. I've always wanted you. I would never hurt you. I love your laugh. Your voice makes weak. You're all that I need. You're it.

She leans closer and closer, the sound of my rapidly beating heart is nothing I can keep to myself anymore. Not even if I tried. As she inches closer to my face I'm certain that she's listening, her eyes darting between lips and and eyes at the same pace as the beast pumping inside.

I close my eyes for many reasons, one of them being that I can't stand those eyes boring into me and I can't allow myself to say more than I already have. I'm already on my knees for her.

Almost unnoticeably I part my lips at the exact moment that I feel her lips meet the skin of my forehead. It's careful, it's light and it feels like it's lasting forever. I open my eyes, being greeted by her neck, that calm and even pulse point I studied earlier is rapidly pumping now, much like my very own.

I let out a shaky breath, obviously shaking her back to life from whatever moment this was.

"Night, Naomi." She whispers and turns back around.

Just like that. With the simplest of acts; a kiss on the forehead, she gives me everything I need. The comfort. The warmth. The soothing layer smothering that dull and lonely ache that seems to grows bigger for every year that passes as I realize I miss her more every time around instead of less. And I smile to myself, knowing that whatever happens, how bad things ever get, Emily makes me feel like people should feel. Emily stirs all these emotions to life, these emotions that I'm allowed to have. That I should have.

"Night, Emily."

* * *

It's the feeling of being watched by someone that forces me to pry my eyes open, squinting them just as quickly as I'm greeted by a blinding sun coming from the now open windows.

"Wake up, Campbell." Freddie. I've missed you is the second thing running through my head. The first one was wondering where Emily was and when she left me this morning.

"Fucking hell.." I croak out. "What's up with the damn spotlight? You could at least have closed the blinds or something."

"Nah. You need your vitamin D."

I let out a loud groan, pulling myself up into a seating position, reaching for my jeans, tucking them under the covers to pull them back on.

"So, how are we feeling today, love?" He asks me. I know he's referring to May and everything that went down yesterday. And I feel better. I feel fucking fantastic actually. For the first time in years I've got a proper good nights rest. I feel unwearied and well rested.

"Honestly, I feel great." I say, with surprise coating my own words. I really was a surprise.

He looks at me and smiles, lighting up a spliff and gives me a wink. "Good."

"So, did you enjoy the company?" He asks while mindlessly blowing smoke rings out into the open air.

I instantly freeze, not knowing how to answer this. How did he know that Emily slept here? Did he hear us? Was he spying? But before I even have time to come up with a shitty see-through lie or to muster up the strength to just play dumb he reaches me to it. He's pointing at the empty side of the bed where Emily slept.

"There's only one person in this house who can pull that shade of red off, and I think we both know who that is." On the pillow where Emily's head rested just mere hours ago lies a few ruby red hairs.

"I like her." I say, and it comes from nowhere. I just wanted to put us both out of this misery. I've kept it from him for so long and I knew that it was only a matter of minutes before he would start probing it again, because he always do and I sometimes think that he's always known. I already feel guilty for all those things I haven't told him, that I'm willing to give him this. Something. Just to let him know that I do trust him.

"I don't even know when I started to like her. Sometimes I think it even started before I was fucking born." I snort.

But somewhere in this rambling of mine it felt good to actually voice it out. I've never told anyone before. And now it's like a snowball effect. I can't stop myself. It felt like such a relief, being able to talk about it. To just tell someone what she does to me. And I could probably ramble on for hours about how I could see ten different shades of red through that hair of hers, or the wrinkling nose and her gorgeous hands. There is so much to say, but I can only think of one thing. And it's nothing but truthful.

"She makes me go weak. At the knees, the heart, everywhere." It's almost a whisper.

And then all I feel is his strong but slender arms around me in a tighter grip than I've ever experienced with Freddie. Telling me that it's okay. That it doesn't matter to him. And that it's probably more of a surprise for me than for him.

"I know." And that's all he says. "But thank you for finally saying it."


	9. Sorry, Sorrow, Solace

**A/N: Greetings, friends. I come in fanfiction peace. So, I managed to get a hold of some cyberlovin' and my first thought goes out to you, of course. Thank you everyone for the reviews so far, I love them, I love you. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Don't stop? Pretty please with a cherry on top? They're like falling in love. When I see that I've gotten a review it reminds me of the feeling when you get a text or a mail from that person you really like. Haha. They really encourages me to write. Seriously. I'm sorry I never got back to who it was that was climbing out of Emily's bedroom (Thank you for reminding me) but it's going to come out in the open soon enough. It's not really that important for the story though, I think. I have no idea, really. Heheh. Anyway anyway anyway. Have to run, don't want to miss the sun. (What's up with the rhymes today?) Read and review! Let me know what you think about this shit so far. And if you have any other questions or whatever, just holla! But for now, enjoy.**

**Disclamer: This chapter does involve dark stuff such as physical abuse and violence. **

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"Eggs and bacon, Naoms?" Freddie asks absentmindedly, standing by the stove wearing this awful snot green apron, preoccupied with preparing our very late breakfast. It's almost three when I glance at the clock hanging from the wall.

"Mmhmm." I answer, too focused on today's crossword in the paper to answer properly.

"Coming right up, then!" So cheerful it would probably disgust most people, but knowing Freddie, these days are very rare. It really makes my heart melt seeing him smile like this. For once. The sound of frying bacon is mixed with a muffled sound coming from the radio.

"For me too?" Katie enters the kitchen, still wearing her sleeping attire. It's a huge oversized Rolling Stones tour t-shirt. Nothing else. Or well, probably some underwear. I hope. She pours up some orange juice and sits down next to me.

"Sure thing, sis." Freddie calls over his shoulder, flashing that infamous lazy smile of his.

"You too, Ems?" She nods. We lock eyes and I force myself to avert mine because there's just too much enticing going on around that girl that I can't stand it. Especially when she, like Katie, wanders around with too little clothing. With just a pair of minimal shorts and a tank top, without a bra, mind you, she sits down next to Katie.

I didn't even see her enter the kitchen at first. That's how concentrated I am. I'm stuck with three words left, and it's the hardest crossword of the week too. I sigh in frustration, throwing down my pen.

"There's something wrong with this shit." I mutter.

"Or.. you're just not _that_ good." Katie smirks, knowing exactly how to press my buttons. I do NOT suck at crosswords. I fucking rule when it comes to crosswords.

"Really? Then you try it." I throw the paper in front of her. "Bitch." She rolls her eyes at me.

"I didn't say I was good at it, you cow. Here, Ems, you do it. Since you're half me, I still get credit for it. So pull it off now, would you? There's nothing more pleasing to the eye than owning Naomi." Katie passes the paper on to Emily.

"First of all, that does not count and second of all, how would you know? You've never owned me! Oh wait! Yeah. You do win in being a bitch. Sorry, forgot. My bad."

Katie opens her mouth to probably throw some lame comment about me being a twat or something similar but Freddie gets his say in and stops her.

"Eyeyey, no fighting before breakfast. This is a holy zone." Freddie says, serving us our plates.

Emily puts the crossword away for the moment, and we all start to dig in. It tastes heavenly. I look at Emily sheepishly as she devours her bacon, like I said before, she loves meat. Suddenly my phone starts going off next to my plate on the table, disturbing my meal and my staring at Emily. I glance at the screen. Seeing it is my mom, I pick up the phone to answer.

"Hello?" I say between bites.

"What? I thought you were coming today." A frown.

"No! I mean, isn't it a bit late for that?"

"But.."

"Yeah. Bye."

As we hang up, Freddie looks questioning at me. He can read me so easily, knowing that something isn't right. Gina said she had to stay a couple of days extra at this conference she's attending. Which means I'm left with Tom. Who suddenly wants to "bond" with me. Fucker. Bet he does. Emilys words from earlier about doing something about the beatings rings in my head.

"Who was it?" He asks.

"Mum. She has to stay for a while at this greenpeace conference."

This makes him break out into a grin.

"Party at yours, then?"

"I wish. Tom is still there. Mum's forcing me to bond with him. Said he rented a movie for us watch. Something about a quiet night in?" My voice diminishing for every word.

This causes Emily to suddenly drop her fork. The sudden sound startling all of us.

"Bit late for that, yeah?" Katie says with a mouth full.

"That's what I said." Nodding.

"You can always stay here, you know." Freddie says while slicing his bacon.

Emily nodded frantically at this, pleading me with her eyes.

"You should, I mean you could." She quickly corrected herself.

"Yeah, I know, but my mom's been on me for ages about this. And I don't think it's a good idea if I stayed here too long. I have to go home sometime, might as well face the fucking music now." I say, a hint of pure fright hidden in my voice, but noticed by Emily.

We all continue to eat, the dull sound coming from the radio filling replacing the silence in the room.

"Fuck. Well, better get going soon. Where did I leave my bag, F? You seen it?" I ask I as I stand up to leave.

"It's in my room." He says.

Emily suddenly gets up from her seat and goes to leaves her plate at the sink and suddenly seems to be in a hurry.

"What's up with you?" Katie asks, frowning at her twin.

"N-nothing. I remember I have to call Luke about something." And with that she hurriedly walks out of the room.

"Why such a hurry?" She raises her voice to be heard as Emily moves in the speed of light.

"I'll be right back!" she calls from the stairs.

"Weirdo." Katie mutters.

I finish my juice and leave my plate at the sink with the rest of the dirty dishes and head up to Freddies room to get my bag. After fishing it up from the floor next to the door, I head back, passing Emily's room on the way. But Emily is nowhere to be seen.

* * *

I head back downstairs, yelling out a farewell before heading back to my house. A dreadful feeling settles inside, robbing me from whatever happiness I felt during the day. I know what awaits me when I get home, and this bonding time with Tom will not be particularly pleasant. I just don't know exactly how unpleasant it might be this time.

He was awfully quiet when I came inside. Greeted me with a distant hello from the kitchen. I vaguely answered him, dropped my bag on the floor in the living room, and went in to see what he was doing.

"You hungry?" He asks while shoving some beans and tomato sauce into his mouth, washing it down with a beer. A beer. Alcohol. I was right. I know what to expect from this night. And for the first time in a really long time, I'm actually scared.

"No, I just ate actually, sorry. But thanks." I answer, nervously.

"You talked to your mum?"

"Yes."

"I rented a movie for us."

"She told me. Which one is it?" I try to act as innocent as possible, not wanting to rile him up more than he probably already is.

He stands up, leaving his plate on the table and downing what's left of his beer. He then heads for the refrigerator and grabbing another one. Taking a swig, he walks closer to me. Closer. And closer.

"I think it was something in the line of..." He looks up, a distant look in his eyes as if he was trying to remember the name. "Time for some shut eye."

The last thing I feel is knuckles hitting me straight in the face.

* * *

I try to grasp where I am, observing my surroundings. After a minute or so I understand that I'm located in the living room. It's dark, both outside and inside, but I can't really tell what time it is. The blinds are down and there actually is a film playing on the television screen. Unlike the other times Tom has beaten me, this time I really cannot move at all. My first thought is that he finally managed to paralyze me with his awful blows, but as I once again try to move my feet I feel something holding them together.

Shit. He has really tied me up to this chair.

A sharp pain spreads throughout my whole body. Ribs must be broken, I probably suffer from some kind of concussion and I feel a warm liquid running down my leg. Everything hurts so bad. Especially my head. The more I try to concentrate on what's happening, the more exhausted I get. I just want to sleep.

"Well, well, see who's woken up from her little rest." He's spluttering now. He's really drunk. I think he's drunker than he's ever been. Which makes me think I might not get out of this alive this time. I suddenly wish I told Freddie about this. I wish Emily told somebody. I wish anyone would come and save me from this mess because I really don't want to die right now.

"Why are you doing this? Why am I tied up?" I quietly ask, my voice so hoarse from not being used in hours.

"Why, why, why... Does it always have to be a reason?" He spits back.

"Mum would kill you if she found out. You're not going to be able to cover this shit up now, are you?" Confidence rising within me. I have nothing left to lose anymore. It doesn't matter. He might as well kill me, but I'm not going down without a fight.

"But you're not going to tell her, are you?" He mimics me. Slaps my face.

"Even if I wouldn't, she'd still see the cuts this time, you fucking low life. And you've probably broken my whole fucking body this time." I squint my eyes at him. God. This pain is overwhelming. Every kind of exertion right now is making everything hurt even more.

"What did you just call me?" His face inches from mine. His drunken voice and vodka breath suffocating me.

"A fucking low life bastard, 'cause that's what you are. You get off hitting younger girls, you disgusting fucking cunt. You'll rot in hell." I spit, right at him. The strength it took to raise my voice makes me feel like my whole body is shattering. I'm now sure that he's broken a couple of ribs, and I'm assuming I have some internal bleeding. He can't get away with this, this time, and he knows it.

"You never understand, do you? I'm not the one who's a sinner, Naomi. My brother got killed because.. because he's just like you. A filthy sinner. It goes against God. It goes against everything. He deserved it, and so do you."

His raises his hand, ready to beat the living shit out of me and I brace myself for the final blow. He doesn't care about the consequences. And I finally understand why he's been doing this all these years. Punishing me. For being fucking in love with someone. This only aggravates me more.

"I thought that you'd eventually understand. That you'd learn. I fucking tried to set you straight! But no, no. Just kept drawing those awful drawings, didn't you?" He looks at me in disgust.

Fucking bastard.

"It's the fucking twentieth century, get over yourself! Go on, then! Just do it! It's not going to change anything! You can't beat me straight!" And even though I tried my very best not to cry in front of him, the pain blazing through my body causes everything inside me to wince and I can't help myself or the tears that are starting to fall.

Just as his hand, now holding on to a candlestick, is going to end a life, the sound of the door bell echoes through the house. He looks startled, his eyes widening.

I breathe heavily, trying to regain some form of consciousness. I feel myself being lightheaded by the second, the sounds getting blurred and my vision close to non-existent.

"They know I'm here. They know we're home, you have to op-" He silences me with a cloth drained in something, putting it over my face and the last thing I remember is being told to shut the fuck up.

* * *

I don't think many people have experienced relief like this. Like what I'm feeling right now. Even if I would have died, it wouldn't have mattered. This feeling would still belong to me. Even death would be a relief. A release. I have spent every waking day the last ten years probably fearing this feeling. This revelation. This day. Fear of hurting my mother, fear of hurting myself. But now I feel nothing but free. My heart, so light for the first time ever. It's ironic though, since my body has never been heavier than it is at the moment.

"She'll be fine, but we have to keep her in the ICU for a while. It's pure luck that she's even breathing on her own. Four of her broken ribs went straight into her right lung. It probably collapsed right away." I don't recognize the voice, so I'm assuming it's the doctor. Which means I'm at the hospital. Which means somebody must have beaten Tom down to find me. I can only assume that it was Freddie.

"Oh god.." A female voice. It's broken and sad. It's my mum. Mum's here. She must know by know. It breaks my heart that I never told her. That she has to see me like this. That after May's death, we died too. But still, the sense of relief, filling me. Making me actually breathe on my own.

"Luckily they found her in time. Now, she'll wake up on her own when she's ready. We're keeping our eyes open for any changes or seizures. There's nothing more to do right now than to wait."

They? Who's they?

A door opens. Footsteps.

I could tell those feathery footsteps apart from anyone elses. Even if it was a fucking riot going on around me. Emily's here.

I don't know what happened when she stepped in but my mum is now sobbing loudly into the open air in this probably sterile white room. I hear her chair scrape against the floor and her muffled voice.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you so much Emily. God. Thank you."

Emily. Emily? She couldn't have punched him down by herself. Fuck. I don't want her to see me like this. I don't want her to worry. Why can't she ever fucking understand? I'll only bring her trouble. I'll end up hurting her. It seems like that's all I do anyway. I don't want her to pity me.

Sometimes I wish I never knew her like I do. That we never met before. And that when we did meet, I would be this cool and fierce Naomi that she'd instantly fall for. My calm exterior, my opinionated personality, my beautiful drawings, my sense of humour and good looks. Not this fucking pity fest every time I'm near her.

"It's dad who did the hard work, really.."

My mum continues to sob. It seems like she can't even muster up a single response. After a minute or so, the crying subsides and her broken voice comes to life again.

"I'll go talk to him. Let me now if something changes, would you? I'll be in the corridor."

"And Emily, really. Thank you." She leaves the room.

New sobs are coming to life, but these ones are quiet and small. They're Emily's. And if my heart could break more than it already has it would have. It would have shattered into the smallest of pieces, almost turning into liquid. Drowning me in sorrow. I wish I could talk. I wish I could wake up and just comfort her. Tell her to stop this. Tell her that she's the most beautiful creature that lives upon this earth and that I don't deserve those tears. My grandmothers words echoes in my head. Emily's way too big heart versus the rest of the world. Warm against cold. She's the fucking sun and I'm burning. The rest, just ice.

"I'm sorry I told him. But I couldn't let it happen. I just couldn't. I hope you forgive me." Her sobs increases now. "You can hate me forever. It's okay. I can live with that. But I just.. I couldn't, Naomi. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." No more sobs. She's openly crying now. And just like that, she's gone. I hear the door close and her muffled footsteps walking away.

All I want to do is wake up and run after Emily, chase her down the corridor and grab her arm before she gets away. Turn her face back to mine and kiss her with all that is me and tell her I'll always forgive her. I'll always forgive her. I'll always forgive her. I already did the minute she walked into my life.

But now, just the silence and me. It's quiet. Dead. Only thing left in here is relief. And for now, that's all I could ask for.

* * *

**Oh, and btw. There's a reason Emily hurried off at the breakfast table. So don't worry. Thank you for reading! R&R. And have an awesome weekend.**


	10. Nothing But The Truth Pt 1

**A/N: It's not the longest, I know. But it's something. Thank you for the reviews, you already know they totally make my heart flutter. They really are encouraging, seriously. I write like a mad man after reading them. What do you guys think so far? And Nonsens, you mentioned about maybe including Emily's POV into the story (Thank you for your input!), what do the rest of you think about that? After all, you guys are the ones reading this. I'm here to please! Now, let me know and let me what you think about this one. I'm sorry for the lack of Naomily interaction so far, but I need to get this Tom business out of the way. I'll make sure it'll be worth the wait! Now, off you go. R&R!**

* * *

"Do you realise that I've never been in your room before?" Freddie says while passing the spliff then picking up the brush drenched in colour to continue painting my walls. It's bright, it's light but most importantly, it's new. I'm currently sitting on the floor, sorting through my things, my body still sore from that awful night. It's been over two weeks since it happened, I got released from the hospital merely a week ago. Gina and I had a heartfelt talk when we came home. I told her about everything. I still haven't forgiven her, and sometimes I think I never really will. But she's trying and that is all that matters for now. Tom was arrested at the scene, and is never to set foot here ever again. I still can't help to think he'll be back. Nightmares about him returning haunting me every night. The trial is taking place tomorrow, and I'm scared that the evidence won't be enough. That he'll convince them it was just a one time thing. And I'm not sure they'll see it as a one time thing worthy enough to put him behind bars. But there's nothing I can do.

I ignore Freddie's statement, too engrossed in my own thoughts about everything that's gone down recently. When I had awoken in the hospital, I asked to be left alone. I didn't want anyone too see me like that. Not even Freddie. Mum was the only one who got to visit me. I felt so exposed, so damaged even though I was finally free. But the feeling of freedom didn't last long, and it certainly didn't come without complications. I always been trapped in that spiral of hell with Tom, never knowing if I'd ever get through it. Always terrified that it might be the last time I hug Freddie when we've parted at my door. Or the last time I see Emily pick at her food. Katie bitching about someone using all the hot water in the bathroom. The small things that made my life. And now, when it's finally over, I don't know what to do or how to react. After getting out from the hospital, my first thought was to just lock myself inside these four all too familiar walls of my room. I felt ashamed. I felt weak. That pity fest seemed to exist in everyone's eyes. Like it got even worse when it finally came out in the open.

"She's really sorry, you know." He puts down the brush and sits down next to me, waiting for me to pass him the spliff. I know he's talking about Emily, I'm not playing dumb. Not now.

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her. That's nothing to be sorry about, is it?" I try as hard I can to act indifferent. I can't stand it. Being the reason for her sadness. Her hurting. I pass him the joint.

"You should tell _her_ that, not me."

"I can't." It's quiet.

"Of course you can."

"No, I can't, F. I fucking can't." A bit louder. A bit stronger than before.

"Get over yourself, Naomi." He spat. "She's fucking miserable. Give her at least something so she doesn't need to walk around as if she was carrying the whole fucking world on her shoulders. She doesn't deserve that. She did the right thing and you shouldn't punish her for it."

Freddie was always right. He always spoke the truth, even if it hurt. But this wasn't a truth I wasn't aware of. No, I was well aware of it. But it seemed like no matter what I did, I always ended up hurting Emily in one way or another. And I didn't want that.

"You wouldn't understand." I muttered.

"And how would _you_ know? It's not like you tell me anything." He gets up and starts painting again. A bit too furiously, if you ask me. This was about more than Emily. This was about Freddie being hurt too. Being left in the shadows of my big secret. This was about me never telling him what was going on all those years.

"You would've have killed him if I told you. You fucking know that, F!" I raise my voice.

Freddie and I rarely fought. I can't even recall a single serious fight we've had. Sure we'd bicker sometimes, but never like this. This was something else. This was something he needed to get off his chest, and it was something I needed to be told. And to tell him.

He snapped his head back to me, and behind his eyes I saw tears starting to gather. I had never seen Freddie cry in front of me in my entire life. Not once. Not even when his family died.

"I tell you everything. Every fucking thing. You could've told me." He swallows hard.

"I was scared." I try. I know it's not enough, but it was nothing else but truthful.

"I know that, but you don't fucking get it, do you? You would have been dead right now if they hadn't come. Dead. _DEAD_!" He yells the last word. I instantly flinch.

"You're my best mate, you stupid fucking cow, and I was going to lose you because you thought I might punch down that son of a bitch that was planning on ending your life?" His eyes staring right into mine. Never breaking. Never leaving. "Don't you know me at all? I've lost everything once. And I almost did it again. I owe Emily the world."

I get up from the floor and start walking towards him. He backs away, wiping his now red stained eyes roughly with the sleeve of his shirt. I keep walking towards him until his back reaches the door. Until he has nowhere left to escape.

"I'm sorry." I quietly say. "I'm sorry." Again. "I'm sorry." I repeat. In the end it's merely a whisper. His tears starts flowing down his cheeks, and so do mine.

"I was so scared, can't you understand? I trust you. I've always trusted you. It's not about that."

"Then what?" He asked.

"I was so ashamed. It disgusted me. And I was a part of something so repulsing. I didn't want anyone else to see it. And now I thought it was all going to be better. That's it finally over. But you know what? It's even worse. You're all looking at me the same way. With that fucking pity in your eyes. You're all so bloody sorry. That's why I didn't tell you in the first place. When you looked at me before, all you saw was your best friend. When you see me now, you see a lost fucking cause. A fucking mess." It was my turn to swallow hard. He tries to say something, but I'm not done. Not yet.

"No, it is true. And that goes for Emily as well. Do you have any idea how that feels? When the person you're head over heels for, even if it's not reciprocated, looks at you as if you're this fragile little thing that can break at any moment? When all you want is for that person to look at you as someone worth risking it all for? It's like you're a fucking charity case. And that's a far worse punishment than all the blows I took."

I had never before been this honest with Freddie. I had never been this honest with anyone, really. But it needed to be said. To make him understand that this isn't his fault. Deep down I know he's blaming himself. And that's the last thing I want.

"I love you, N, but you're so blind you wouldn't even see a fucking blue whale even if it was right in front of you."

I frown.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He sighs and shakes his head at me. "See it as a lesson. If you'd just stop putting up these walls around you, you might be happy for once." He then turns to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

And with that he left my room. I was drained. By everything. Admitting everything to Freddie was admitting it to myself. I was disgusted. I was ashamed. And even though he tried to tell me that it wasn't pity or sorrow in their eyes, I can't imagine anything else colouring them.

* * *

A man true to his words, Freddie was standing outside the huge grey building, waiting for me with coffee in his hand.

"Thank you." I said and reached for the cup.

"It's just coffee, N." He flashes me his lazy smile. It made everything feel a bit better. The knots in my stomach eased up a bit. This dreading feeling inside, having to confront everything again was draining me. It made me feel a bit nauseous, to be honest.

"No, thank you for being here. And for yesterday. I needed to tell you that."

"Everyone need to be able to say what they feel. Even if it's not even remotely true."

"Well, thank you anyway."

"Don't say thank you. That's what friends are for, innit?" He says as he wraps one arm around my shoulders, leading me inside the building.

"Yeah, that's what friends are for."

* * *

It was my turn to take the stand. As I settled into my chair I heard the sound of doors opening. I lifted my head towards the sound and saw Emily, Katie and Jenna tiptoe inside. My stomach turned as I saw her face. She looked so devastated. So sad. I didn't mind that she was here. She'd already seen it all. I didn't care about Katie either, she probably knew everything by now anyway. And needless to say, Jenna was an even better support than my own mother. Rob was already here, of course. He had already been given the third degree. Freddie said that they might show up, so I was already prepared for it. But, when I think about it, I can never really prepare myself enough when it comes to Emily. It's impossible.

"Miss Campbell, you can start whenever you're ready. Please tell us what you remember from that day."

I look up at Emily as they finally took a seat in the back. I can't do anything else but to stare at her like I've done so many times before. I can never get over how beautiful she is. Even when she looks as crestfallen and pained as she does at the moment. All because of me. If I could hate myself more than I already do, I would. She stares right back at me. For the first time ever, none of us is averting our eyes. None of us breaking it. I continue to watch her as I start speaking.

"I had spent the night at the Fitch's" I said, now forcing myself to look away from Emily to nod my head at Rob who was positioned next to his lawyer. "and headed home around four, I think. I was told by my mum that Tom had rented a film for us to watch."

"What happened when you got home?"

"I left my bag in the living room and went into the kitchen where he was sat. He was drinking a beer, and finishing up his dinner. After that, he went for another beer." I frown as I strain my mind to remember everything. It was all pretty blurry for me. Thankfully, Tom wasn't in the room. They thought it might affect the trial and the testimonies if he was present.

"He then came up to me and I asked him what film he'd rented. He tried to remember the name and said something about shut eye.. and then it all went dark for me."

"Is that all you remember?"

"No, I woke up later. I don't know how long afterwards it was. But this time I was in the living room, tied up to a chair. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe properly either and there was blood running down my neck and legs. He spluttered a lot, indicating how drunk he was." I said.

I paused, remembering his speech about setting me straight right before he was going to end everything. I thought about Emily. I thought about my paintings. I thought about the night we shared just before everything came tumbling down.

"He said I needed to be punished. And then he lifted his hand. He was holding a candlestick, I think. I was having a hard time breathing and was falling in and out of consciousness. That's when I heard the door bell. And that's all I remember. Next thing I know, I was at the hospital."

"What was it you needed to be punished for?"

I look at Emily. I wanted to point at her and tell them everything. That she was the reason he hated me. Because she's the only thing that makes me smile. But I couldn't say anything.

"I don't know."

"Thank you, Miss Campbell. Now, about the alcohol. Did he drink a lot?"

"Not when my mum was home. Only when she's away. That was when he used to hit me." I confess. I look at Emily again, dreading to see the sympathy and pity all over her face but she just looked at me with eyes that told me nothing. Absolutely nothing. Relief flooded my senses. I just couldn't have stand anything else.

"So this has happened before?"

"Yes. Many times. It started when I was about ten." This time she looks away.

"Did you ever tell anyone?" Her head snaps up faster than ever. I'd think she'd hurt her neck if I didn't know any better.

I went quiet. I can't lie in a courtroom. But I didn't want to confess. I didn't want Freddie to feel even more abandoned by me. And I didn't want anyone to blame Emily for not doing anything about it. I told her not to. It's all my fault, not hers. A voice was pulling me back to reality.

"Miss Campbell? Did you ever tell anyone about this?"

"Once." I look down, start to fidget with my hands. Not wanting to see her reaction.

"Who did you tell?"

"I didn't really TELL anyone. But Emily Fitch might have had a clue. She saw my bruises once. But I asked her not to tell. I begged her, really." I never asked her, but my eyes surely did. A thousand times over.

"Emily Fitch, the girl who rang the door bell?"

"Yes."

"Thank you Miss Campbell. That would be all for now. You may leave the stand."

As I stand up to leave I look at her one final time to see her reaction, but she was suddenly gone. I look around the room and catch a glance of her red hair being led into another room with two officers following her. The nauseating feeling inside increases. Why are they taking her? And where are they taking her?

"We will continue the hearings in one hour. Next to take the stand is Miss Emily Fitch."

Oh fuck.


	11. Nothing But The Truth Pt 2

**A/N: **

**I don't even know where to begin. I guess I'll start off by giving my DEEPEST of apologies to everyone reading this fiction for my extreme lack of absence. I know how it feels when you're really into a story that just stops updating for no apparent reason at all. Especially if it's your favorite one. Haha, I'm NOT expecting my story to be your favorite one, but if there's someone out there who feels that way, then I'm even more sorry. **

** These last months have been hectic and just, honestly, really crazy for me and this year will probably be the same but I really really really will try my best to find a moment to write. I don't have a clue about how frequent the updates will be, and I will really do my best to finish this story 'cause really, I kind of like it and I want to see them together just as much as you do!**

** The only thing I can promise is that I will do my very best to finish this story. I can't say how long it will take, or when I'll be back again, but I just hope you hang in there if you like this stuff. If you just can't take the wait, I understand that too. I'm assuming many of you have already forgotten about this one and that's more than ok. **

** Before I let the story continue I want to give a huge thank you for everyone who kept reading, reviewing and cheering on me to continue this story. I love your appreciative words. They mean the world and a special shout out to_ Lily Ann_ and your inspiring review that actually forced me to write this update. Anything referring to "A Beautiful Mess" in a context that has to do with my writing is all to flattering for me to grasp. That story is so good it breaks my heart. And now there's a new one from _ImagineAlex_. Actually, my inbox just told me it's been updated. Which means that I can't sit still anymore. **

** Anyway. I am truly sorry for M.I.A. And, you guys are really the best. **

* * *

As I watched Emily sit down after what felt like a excruciatingly long promise of honesty I still had that disturbing feeling in the pit of my stomach. I never wanted Emily involved in this. It was never supposed to come to this. It was just going to pass. That had been the plan all along. Eventually I'd move out and never see Tom again. That's what I thought would happen. That's what I wanted. I just wanted to push everything further and further away from me until there wasn't anything left to swallow. No Tom, no bruises, no quick excuses, no hiding body parts. Nothing. And nothing may seem empty to you. Nothing may seem hollow and excruciatingly painful for everyone else, but for me that would've been the relief I needed.

"Miss Fitch. Emily. May I call you Emily?" the solicitor asked kindly when she noticed Emily's nervousness. It was written all over her face. But she seemed nice, the solicitor. And that seemed to ease Emily as I watched the strict tension of her shoulders ease down a bit.

Emily just nodded at first but eventually stuttered out an "Uhm, yes of course" short thereafter when she realised that the testimonies were being recorded and that a nod probably didn't make that much of a sound.

"How long have you known the Campbell family?"

She was picking at her fingernails, a nervous habit she had developed throughout the last few years. I don't know why. I noticed it the first time a few years back when we were eating dinner and Jenna asked her about something that I assumed happened the night before. Emily, being the awfully bad liar that she is, started picking at her nails while trying to come up with an answer that would be sufficient enough for Jenna to stop pushing the subject.

"My whole life. They've been our neighbours for as long as I can remember", she replied.

"And Naomi, has she always been your friend?"

"Uhm.. I-.. Sh-..." she started. "She's my stepbrothers best friend. I mean, I know Naomi but she, Freddie and my sister Katie were in another class when we grew up. So, I guess.. no? Or I mean.. I've always known her. We all played together when were kids."

"I see what you mean. And... Tom. Did he ever seem violent to you?"

"I never saw much of him. He married Gina" she nodded towards my mother, "when I was pretty young and moved in with them next door. I only talked to him when he came by asking for Naomi, really. So I can't really judge him being violent based on those meetings. He drank a lot, though."

"And this you know?"

"Yes. Every year there's a Christmas Party at our street and Tom would always show up pretty intoxicated before the drinks were even handed out."

"Did you ever think of it as a problem?"

"Him drinking? Only for himself I guess. I didn't think that much about it. People drink. Some people drink more than others. Some may have problems with it. But it didn't feel like it was my place to say something."

"Did you know that Tom was abusing Naomi?"

Emily swallowed hard as she looked up at me with a look I would never forget. A look of pure betrayal, even though I'd never see this a a betrayal. She saved my life. I tried my very best to tell her with my eyes that it was okay. That if there ever was a time and a place where it was more than okay for her to share this, it would be now. Time to be honest. To tell the truth and not keep it locked up inside anymore. To finally come clean.

"I did." she said with a wobbly voice. She was breaking. I could see it and it physically hurt everywhere inside me.

"Why didn't you report it to anyone?"

Naomi remembered every look Emily has given her as if it was yesterday. Every time she'd seen a bruise and pretended with sorrowed eyes that they just weren't there. Because that was what Naomi had wanted.

"Naomi begged me not to."

"So you didn't, even though you knew that this was going on?"

Guilt was taking over Emily.

"I never knew the frequency of it. I knew that it had happened. At least once or twice. But I

never knew how often."

"Why did you go over to Naomi's house that night?"

She fidgeted in her chair, frowning as she spoke.

"Something just felt wrong. When Naomi left our house that day you could see that she was terrified. And since I knew about the abuse from before, I just wanted to make sure that everything was alright."

"Then why did you bring your father? Did you know that something was going to happen?"

Emily frowned even more and stared hard at the solicitor as she spat, "D'you think I had **anything** to do with that? Are you seriously trying to accuse me for being an accomplice or something?"

"Order! Answer the question, miss Fitch." The judge called out.

She huffed loudly.

"After seeing some bruises on Naomi a long time ago, I knew that Tom was capable of a lot of things. I didn't want to risk anything. I'm telling you, something didn't feel right. I don't know what it was that told me to go over, I just knew that I had to."

"Thank you, Emily. Mr. Robertson, go ahead."

Mr. Robertson looked like evil was pumping through his vains with every heart beat as he stood up and approached Emily. Just like Tom looked. No wonder. What other asshole could defend such a bastard as Tom if not someone exactly like him?

His voice was cold and distant when he spoke. A complete opposite to the previous solicitor.

"Miss Fitch. You never reported Naomi's abuse even though you knew about it all along, isn't that right?"

Pushing directly at the buttons that he knew would make her crack. All that she felt the most sorry about. Her biggest regret. Tears were starting to form in Emily's eyes. I wanted to punch the fucking lights out of him for making her upset.

"Yes." It was barely a whisper.

"Now, since Tom has a fairly clean record like most of us, it could even be seen as absurd that he, a hard working man and good husband, would do such a thing out of the blue, wouldn't it?"

"You don't have to have a record to be a fucking asshole."

"Language, Miss Fitch." The judge spoke again.

"..Sorry."

"But, kids.. they have a wild imagination. Here we have this hard working, honest man marrying a woman with a child who grew up without any kind of male role figure in here life. It is often common for girls to reject new men in their mothers lives. A fear of rejection or maybe being put aside. Naomi may might as well have lied about everything to break them up. Maybe she thought you'd actually tell someone and help her break them up."

"That's just absurd." She was getting more and more aggravated by the second. "I saw the bruises. You physically couldn't do that to yourself even if you tried."

"But you never really did see Tom lift a finger towards Naomi, did you?"

Silence.

"No."

"Then I guess we don't really have a problem here, do we?"

"I think we do." Her voice stronger now. And I couldn't really understand why because Mr. Robertson seemed to have the upper hand. I knew what he was getting at. What he was trying to do, and I couldn't believe it. I couldn't stand losing this. Thoughts about Tom being freed without charges took over and I clenched my jaw together to keep me from crying.

"There's no evidence. You never reported it. Earlier bruises were never checked up to prove otherwise. Tests are probably going to show that Naomi is emotionally disabled, making things up and severely self-destructive. Tom might even have tried to stop Naomi from hurting herself that night. Not the other way around. We don't really know the truth, do we?"

"Again, I think we do."

What was she doing? We were losing. This bastard was sticking up to Tom and the jury was starting to actually believe him instead of me. I could see it as they looked at me with their questioning eyes. His story seemed real. Like I really did imagine everything, and for a second I nearly believed it myself. And he was right, it wasn't uncommon for children to act that way. It wasn't impossible.

"How, do reckon?"

She tried to find her voice, coughing and clearing her throat every other second.

"Open the first pocket in Naomi's bag." She quietly said, not looking up. Especially not at me. I had no idea what was going on. I probably looked just as confused as Mr. Robertson at the moment.

Mr. Robertson started to frown as a security guard went to Naomi's seat and took her bag up from the floor. He raised it up towards Emily with a questioning look. She nodded back.

He started emptying the bag onto a table in front of him. A magazine, some coins and gums came flying out and then something that Naomi had never seen in her bag before. Something that certainly didn't belong to her.

A tape recorder.

Everyone turned their head from the table and looked back at Emily.

"I slipped it into her bag before she left the house. I just knew.. I don't know. I just knew something would happen. Of course I hoped and prayed that the tape would be empty and worthless but I had this unnerving feeling that it wouldn't be. That it isn't."

I was gobsmacked. Staring at her with eyes that refused to blink and a mouth hanging open. I couldn't believe it.

"Play the tape." The judge called out.

The security guard carefully unfolded the recorder and took out the tape. He walked over to the sound system and put the it inside. As he pressed play I heard a swift and almost unhearable "I'm sorry" and then immediately the crunchy noise of my own two feet getting nearer the bag and eventually walking down the stairs I knew that this, whatever this tape held, was going to be ugly. And secrets would come out. Secrets to why he was hitting me. Secrets about my undying love for the redhead in front of me. Secrets that wasn't meant for anyone else but me to know. Especially not Emily. Not now. Not ever.

I held my eyes closed the entire time. The whole room was silent except for the muffled and crunchy noises coming from the speakers. When the beating had started some people exited the room. Among them, my mother. She obviously couldn't stand the sound of my heart-wrenching screams and ribs cracking. I did think that I was going to die that night. And that's exactly how it sounded as well when I heard it all being played back to me.

_"You never understand, do you? I'm not the one who's a sinner, Naomi. My brother got killed because.. because he's just like you. A filthy sinner. It goes against God. It goes against everything. He deserved it, and so do you." _

I instantly remembered this. This part. And I knew what was coming next. The drawings of red. The drawings of her. I had to end this and I had to end it now.

"Turn it off." I said out loud. Everybody now looking at me.

"Please just, fucking turn it off now." I rushed out even louder. This made Emily frown. The look I was sporting must have been one of desperation because the security guard hastily looked towards the judge who just gave a simple nod back.

_"I thought that you'd eventually understand. That you'd learn. I fucking tried to set you straight! But no, no. Just kept dra-"_

And it stopped. It finally stopped. I let out the huge breath I didn't even know that I was holding.

"Could you please finish the tape later? I would prefer if only the jury and not everyone in this room have to listen to this."

"I think what we heard was enough." The judge said.

I looked at Emily with nothing but love. Hundreds of people had just heard my whole body take a beating that was out of this world really, but I couldn't care less. I couldn't care about anything else then telling this beautiful girl with tears streaming down her face that I loved her. For knowing when to listen and when to not listen to me. That I loved her for saving me. That I loved her for letting me love her. For letting me live. Even if she didn't have and never had a clue. With tears falling freely from my own face, I tried smiling at her. She bit her lip and started to wipe away the tears in her face, forming a smile mirroring my own. I don't really know what mine ended up looking like, but hers was the most beautiful I've ever seen and I knew in that moment that we had won. I knew that I was finally free.


	12. Finally Feeling Free

**A/N: In a rush, rush, rush. So I'm going to keep this short. Just wanted to thank everyone for the cheering and reviewing. What an great crowd to return to. R&R. Finally, some Naomily.**

* * *

I won. I would tell you what sentence that was awaiting Tom in jail, but really, I don't know. After the words 'guilty' were uttered, nothing mattered anymore. None of it.

After the storm and the calm that replaced it, you wouldn't expect things to be the same as they were before. And of course, they weren't. But, it was getting better. All of it. Not necessarily things between me and Emily, but it wasn't getting worse there either. No progress nor fallback. I found it pretty hard seeing her after everything that had happened these last few weeks.

I didn't avoid her, but I made an effort not to look for her, which I've otherwise done for as long as I can remember. We haven't spoken about this. About her coming to my rescue, in every way possible. About the red that resided within me. Burning for her. Yearning her for touch.

Me and Freddie have been going to the pier more often since the courtroom. Reconnecting on a new level. With everything out in the open, nothing left to hide. Nothing holding me down anymore.

"Don't feel bad for not telling me, N." He says as he nudge his shoulder against mine. "You were right, I would have fucking killed him in an instant."

I let out a small snort.

"Tell me about it." I reply.

"Kinda glad, y'know. Wouldn't want to waste my days in a orange suit, after all." He says.

"Me too. I'm glad someone gets to, though. For a fucking lifetime." I say. "Bastard." I mutter under my breath.

"He never.. you know.. Did he?" I know what he's getting at and I can't blame him. Or Emily for that matter, who's also asked the inevitable question. I would've asked the same.

"No, never. I was expecting it to happen, though. But it never came." I say.

"Why were you expecting it?"

"I don't know. Being a moron and a retarded cripple that must've been dropped as a baby it wouldn't surprise me if he thought raping me would, and I quote "set me straight". Literally."

Freddie turns his head to look straight at me, with a half disgusted and half surprised face.

"Set you straight? As in, straight straight? Is that why he did all of it?"

I nod as I continue to stare at the setting sun in the horizon.

"That's... fucked up, N." He breathes out.

"Mmmhm." I reply as I nod.

The silence takes over. It's not forced or intrusive. It's palpable but nice.

"She's not necessarily straight, you know." He says.

I look at him through the corner of my eye, seeing him fidgeting with his beer bottle label.

"I.. I guess I do know that." I think back on that time me and Emily shared a bench in the Fitch's backyards and she countered with Luke not having a brother, but a sister. And then the phone call when she ended something which I assume must have been some form of relationship. With someone who knows Luke. I just assumed it was Lisa.

"You do?"

"I think she's been with Luke's sister Lisa."

Freddie doesn't say anything. Maybe because he knows it's true. And from the way his fingers are fidgeting in an even more anxious manner, ripping off pieces of the label, he definitely knows it's true. And it breaks my heart a little bit more.

"Maybe. But you're the girl of her dreams, princess."

I snort.

"I think you got us mixed up, F. It's the other way around."

"No, really. Literally. She fell asleep on the sofa downstairs the other night while we were watching a film. Started to mumble incoherent stuff and all for a while until she mentioned you. Seemed to be a good dream as well." He winks.

I immediately blushed at his words. If only he had the slightest of ideas of the "good dreams" I've been having of Emily lately.

"She said my name?" I couldn't hide my excitement even if I tried.

"She did." He smiled.

"It could've been a nightmare. She did find me close to dead, y'know. That's got to do something for you."

"From the sounds she was doing, I doubt it."

This makes me blush even harder.

"I wish I could tell her."

"You can."

"I can't. It feels like everything is ruined. I'm not the person I want her to know. This emotional cripple with way too much baggage for someone my age to carry."

I stretch my neck backwards. Then to the sides. As if I was feeling it by just talking about it. Feeling the weight of it all.

"It's not just your baggage anymore, N. It's hers as well. And mine. And Katies. And Rob's. And Jenna's. And your mum's. It's everyone's now. And we'll gladly carry a part of it for you. We all share it, and always will."

And he was right. This wasn't my shit anymore. Everyone was involved. Everyone carried it. Shared the weight of it. Not just my shoulders anymore.

"I never thought of it like that."

"There's a lot of things you haven't thought of." He says.

"Like?"

"Ah, ah, ah." he says as he wiggles his finger from side to side. "One thing at a time, babe. One thing at a time."

I just roll my eyes.

The vibrating sound of a text message against the floorboards of the pier comes to life. Freddie starts rummaging through his pockets until he finds the offending item. He reads it and quickly types something back before returning it to it's previous position.

"We're going to Effy's tonight. You're coming as well. Apparently Cook's got some good shit."

"Is she going as well?"

He smirks.

"You just have to come and see for yourself, don't you?"

I sigh.

"You're impossible."

"I like this... this side of you. You really like her, and it's... rather cute actually. I mean, coming from someone like you."

"Fuck off. It's not 'cute'. It's fucking horrible. And pretty unbearable as well."

"Then, do something."

"You do something." I'm referring to Effy and he knows exactly what I'm getting at.

"I will." He says a bit defiantly.

"Then me too."

It was a silent agreement. We just both promised each other to act on our feelings. It spoke volumes for people like us. Scared of the rejection that it might result in. Scared of the approval it might result in. This night was not going to go down well.

We went straight to Effy's after leaving the pier, and of course, she was there. Well, she and what certainly looked like hundreds of other people. I instantly found her vibrating red hair in the crowd as we entered the kitchen. Where the party's always at. Everyone knows that the the best party is always in the kitchen.

A sudden roar startles me.

"Speaking of the little devil! Naomikins!" Cook and the drugs flowing freely in his system were more than happy to see me as the lifted me up in what felt like the tightest hug he's ever given me.

Emily's gaze instantly took an interest to the floor as he unsteadily held me in his arms. Myself though, couldn't stop staring at her.

"You fancy some?" He asks me as soon as he loosened his arms around my lanky frame and held out his tongue with a small white pill on it.

"Never know where that one's been." I said smiling, turning down his make-out offer as I take the pill from his mouth with my hand. "But thanks."

"Touché." A wink. He passes one on to Freddie as well.

Katie was mixing drinks by the kitchen table so I went over and offered to help. Some distraction from the other twin that made my knees all too weak.

"What can I offer you, my dear?" She says, obviously intoxicated. Probably been alternating giving out drinks and having one herself for everyone that came up to the table.

"Same old, same old." I reply, handing her the rum bottle.

"One rum and coke coming up!" She calls out, loud enough to make me flinch.

"Make that two." A voice from behind says.

That voice. God. Emily. Freddie wasn't joking when he said that Cook had brought some ace stuff. I was already feeling it. How could I not have noticed Emily coming up to the table? Katie being too smashed for her own good hadn't even noticed her sisters presence.

"Two it is... Oh, it's you!" Katie says, giggling when she saw her replica standing behind her. "Thought you didn't do rum." It wasn't much of a question but Emily answered it anyway while looking straight at me.

"Neither did I." It was raspy and wonderful. I couldn't help but think if that sentence held more to it than just alcohol preferences.

She always paralyzed me by her mere presence. I couldn't do anything but to stare back. After the conversation with Freddie earlier today, guts took over nerves. I wasn't going to be the one backing down tonight. Not averting my eyes, forcing hers to stay with me.

You see, Emily was the stubborn one of the twins. Challenging her is like accepting a loss before it even begun. She didn't take no for an answer. She never backed down. And her intensity. Gosh. I always thought my dreams of red was unbearable, but this. This staring contest that must've looked more like glaring than admiration was making me all dizzy.

Fortunately Katie managed to finish preparing our drinks and broke whatever spell that was coming over us.

"Cheers then!" She held up her own rum and coke, waiting for us to join. Told you she was alternating drinks. I know that girl all too well.

We all saluted in unison. I took a large swig of the drink, instantly feeling the amount of alcohol burning down my throat. Katie must've dropped the bottle into our glasses or something. It burned. But it was a good burn.

She giggled. About what, I'll never know. But she continued to giggle as she left me and Emily to awkwardly stand in front of each other, drinks in our hands.

"Is it going to be awkward from now on?" I blurt out. Told you I wasn't backing down tonight. What I didn't know though was that my mind and mouth was obviously not communicating well enough for me to actually be a part of the decision making in choice of words.

But she just smiled and let out a throaty laugh.

"I prefer it not to be." She replies.

And just before it almost falls back into the same awkwardness that I tried smothering by acknowledging it, I feel her arms around my neck and her small little frame pressing hard against mine. The second hug to receive from Emily Fitch. I instantly respond by lifting my arms and resting them on her back.

..5,

6,

7,

8,

9 seconds before she loosened her grip. She was about to say something and by the sad and guilty look of her eyes, I already knew what it was going to be so I beat her to it. Started shaking my head.

"Don't. Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong."

A smile. Ah, how I love that smile.

"How did you know I was going to say that?"

"I know everything." I smirked.

She mumbles something as she casted a look downwards.

"What was that?" I ask.

"Nothing." Another smile on her lips. I frowned but returned her smile. "You wanna sit for a bit? The sofa is free."

The sofa wasn't just any sofa. It was the best sofa. Just next to the living room there was this small and open space with this certain velvet sofa and a reading lamp. And Emily was right, it was free. Everybody seemed to either be enjoying themselves on the dance floor or the kitchen.

The cushions dipped down as Emily sat down way too close next to me. I wasn't complaining though. The drugs were doing their job fairly well, and the alcohol was rubbing off too. I was at ease. I was everywhere I wanted to be right now. Free. Happy. With Emily next to me. Fucking. Perfect.

She smelled of her usual mix of raspberry and the distinct smell that was Emily herself. I didn't how she did it. Smelled that good, I mean. It was more intoxicating than any of the drugs that were mingling inside me at the moment. She was THE drug.

"So, you know everything, huh?"

"Try me." I smirk.

"I will." If I would have been sober my smirk would have faltered. Saying 'Try me' to Emily is like offering a challenge to Barney Stinson.

She looked up towards the ceiling, pondering over a question. My hands were becoming sweatier by the second. What have I dragged myself into?

"Who painted that huge cock on Gemma Fallon's locker?"

Gah. Too easy. I mockingly rolled me eyes as if the answer was the most obvious one in the world.

"Duuh. Cook? Who else."

"Good, good." She nodded. "I was just testing you."

"Go on, then. Hit me."

As I said before, brain and mouth not co-operating. The choice of words couldn't have been worse. Emily's smile was instantly wiped away.

"Fuck no. Never." she says as she looks me straight in the eyes.

"Bad choice of words. I'm sorry." I said with what must have been a guilty look that matched the guilt I was feeling inside. This seemed to ease her a bit. She shook her head slightly and smiled again. Erasing everything bad. Every wrong.

"Which member of the Backstreet Boys left the group?"

"Kevin."

"I didn't even know that." She laughs. "Hmmm.. What does Freddie keep in that locked up box under his bed?"

"Can't say."

"Not fair! It's because you don't know. Consider yourself beaten." She says triumphantly.

"Okay, okay. If that's how you want to play. Three pictures of Effy and mostly weed."

Her eyebrows raised.

"Effy?"

"Sorry? What? I don't know what you're talking about." I joke. I wasn't really disclosing anything Freddie would've minded me saying. At least not to Emily. And either way, I could never deny this girl anything.

She giggles. A lovely sound. The rum and coke instantly agreeing, multiplying the double takes of my heart.

The questions were firing. About anything and everything. Presidents, countries, colours, music. All of it. They came faster and faster. Leaving less room for afterthought. More room for mistakes.

"Madonna's real name?"

"That is her name. Plus Louise Ciccone, of course."

"When did youtube come?"

"In 2005." I said.

"Favourite colour?" She asked.

"Red." Red, red, red. I could've have just said 'you'. It would be more than sufficient.

"You never wear red?" Busted.

"So?"

"Just.. Interesting."

I gulped.

"My favourite colour?"

"Black. And blue. Like the Backstreet Boys album, in case you didn't know." I smirked. She just slapped my arm.

I had finished my rum and coke what felt like ages ago now, so Emily offered her glass to me. She held the glass while I took one of the straws in my mouth. My eyes landed unconsciously on her lips.

"Why are you fighting it?" It was hushed. Honest. Not accusative nor raw.

I instantly choke on the liquid. Turning my head down and away to cough. A lot. She puts her hand to my back, carefully stroking it while I continue to cough.

"Are you ok?" She asks, worried as my cough still hadn't subsided. She gets up and kneels in front of me. Hands on my knees.

"I'm.." Cough. "Fine." I look up and try to look everywhere but at her. She's too close. Everything around me is red. Everything around me is her. And Emily, being everything but stupid, notices this.

I kind of knew that Emily was going to understand it, sooner or later. I had been lacking the strength to keep it a secret these last months. I could blame all that happened. That it affected me so much that I couldn't keep the facade up any longer. That some of the red was seeping through, disclosing my obsession. The looks. The need to be close to her. But really, it was just the longing. The need to feel her. The need to have her. I knew it was showing.

"I'm not." I croak out. Answering her previous question. Daring my eyes up to mer hers. Her chocolate brown orbs that usually holds nothing but serenity and calm were now black and hungry. I could feel her hands on my legs press harder, steadying herself.

"You are." She whispered.

So close. She was so close now.

"Not." I whispered back. I couldn't even convince myself. I bit my lip, looking down again. Averting my eyes.

I suddenly feel a hand on my cheek, her slender thumb tugging down my lip from the grasp that my teeth had on it.

"Don't. Don't think. Don't fight. Just..." She paused. Staring at my lips. "Just.. feel it."

With her this close me, one hand on my knee, one touching my cheek, millimetres separating us I couldn't help but think of how it would feel to have her this close every day. Waking up to this. Falling asleep to this. Breaths mingling together. And the butterflies erupting in my stomach, caressing every living organ inside me with it's feathery wings. The yearning to share something with Emily, whether it was a life, a relationship or just one night was too much for me to control this time. The urge overtaking everything that was me, led me closer and closer to her. I lean in.

The moment our lips meet a quiet moan leaves her lips. It echoes inside me, spurring me on. I kiss back even harder the second time. Her lips are soft. Like silk. Very addicting, I think to myself. I would never be able to restrain myself again after tasting her. She is a drug. A drug I've spent seven years waiting to try. But those seven years did nothing to prepare me for this. Nothing would have.

The hand that was occupying my cheek is now caressing my neck. Her other hand grasping even harder at my knee. Stroking it.

It's too strong. I can't help it. I can't stop this. I only crave more and more. I involuntarily let out a small moan as her tongue dart out to my lips. I instantly grant her access as I pull her towards me, forcing her up and onto me. Forcing her to straddle me. Which was a huge mistake.

Her hands now on either side of my face, pushing against the wall. We're eager and hormonal. Her breathing picks up and so does mine as she lets my hands wander over her stomach, playing with the hem of her shirt. Just like in the dreams.

I'm waking up soon, I'm waking up soon, I'm waking up soon, repeating in my head.

She breaks the kiss after I involuntarily pushed my hips up against her, breathing hard against me. Even though every part of me is screaming for her to come back, return to our make-out session, I know that it's not a good idea. I don't want to be fucking her on the velvet sofa at Effy's. It just wouldn't feel.. right. In some ways, I barely know this girl. In other ways, I know her all too well.

"I can't really stop. But I think we have to." She says. Still breathing hard against my pulse point.

"I..I-..." I'm at loss. I didn't prepare myself for this part of it.

A ghost kiss against my throat. I gulp.

"I need a cigarette." I breathe out.

She starts to giggle. Telling me that everything is okay. That nothing is ruined. That we'll go from here. Wherever it might lead us.

"I second that."


End file.
